The Fear Game
by hazelmom
Summary: The team struggles to get McGee back. Full on whumpage madness.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: For reasons I don't fully understand, I have an endless appetite for writing mean old McGee whumpage stories. Here's another. There will be a chapter a week if all goes well. Hope you like it. Sheila

The Fear Game

He slowed at the desk. It was protocol to just flash his badge as he was leaving, but it was midnight and Jake had a long night ahead of him.

"Hey Jake," he smiled. "How's it going?"

"My oldest got all A's on her report card this quarter."

"That's great!"

Jake glanced up at the clock. "Kinda late. Even for you."

McGee sighed as he looked up. The maritime clock showed 2300 hours. "Big project. I guess I lost track of time."

"Gibbs always looks at the logbook, you know."

"He knows I was going to be here late."

"You going to sleep in?"

"God no. Too much to do. Gotta get home and get what little sleep I can."

"Take care, Tim."

McGee stopped at the door and turned. "Your oldest- that's the one who wants to be an astronaut, right?"

"Yeah, she dreams big."

"Think she'd be interested in seeing MTAC sometime?"

"Are you kidding? She'd love it!"

"Let me talk to Vance. We can pick a Saturday next month."

"You don't have to do that."

He shrugged. "I'm going to be reviewing 2013 files for the fiscal year audit. We'll pick a Saturday when I'm already here."

Jake grinned. "That would be terrific, Tim."

…..

"What am I doing, Jethro?" Fornell draped over the worktable in Gibbs' basement nursing a coffee mug full of bourbon.

Gibbs sighed and shook his head as he intricately shaved a post for a chest of drawers he was making. He'd stopped responding with actual words some hours earlier.

"God, I'm obsessed with Diane. I miss her and Emily so much."

Gibbs grunted.

"Can't believe I have to wait another month before I see them. So damned unfair. Wish I could go in and shoot Arnold myself."

Gibbs rubbed his face, noting the clocking nearing midnight. "Your detail is probably getting tired and it's cold out there."

"Hell, they can wait," Fornell growled into his cup. "Let 'em freeze out there. They've been torturing me all blessed week micromanaging me like I'm a three year old."

Gibbs sat back on his haunches and rose slowly. "Tobias, it is what it is. You've gotten death threats, and protective custody is the best option for you until Arnold gets executed. His brothers and his crew are going to lose interest in you after that. Suck it up already."

"You try living like this!"

Gibbs' mouth twitched. "I think you're afraid Diane's stepping out on you already."

"Bite your tongue!" Fornell slapped the table. "This is real, Jethro. I mean it. It's forever for her and me."

"Then why were you fussing about McGee helping Emily with her Algebra?"

Diane didn't tell me! I only found out last week that the boy genius is sniffing around Di…my girls."

"Please Tobias," Gibbs groaned as he took a swig from the bottle. "You said yourself that Emily needed a tutor."

"I didn't expect she'd choose Chucky!"

"McGee is not a threat to your…relationship with Diane. Hell, he was worried about you going ballistic like this. I had to talk him into it. He's helping your daughter pass math- that's all. Give it a rest!"

"Why him?!" Fornell pounded the cup on the table.

"He's a good tutor, Tobias." Then a grin escaped before Gibbs took another swig. "Plus, I figure Diane chose him to keep you on your toes. Doesn't want you taking her for granted or nothing."

"Jethro!"

"You don't calm down and I'll do the Arnolds a favor and shoot you myself," Gibbs drawled.

"I just miss 'em," Fornell mumbled, his outrage spent.

"I know." Gibbs eased the mug away from him.

"Protective custody sucks!"

"I know that too." Gibbs flicked the remains of the cup into a dark corner.

"Come on Jethro, I was still thirsty."

He shook his head. "Party's over. School night."

Fornell groaned as Gibbs eased him up and toward the stairs. "You should check in on her. Or on second thought, maybe not. She still looks at you funny…like you're a big bag of Cool Ranch Doritos or something."

"No thanks." Gibbs winced as he gently pushed him up the steps. "She's all yours."

Fornell leaned back and Gibbs had to steady him. "Am I drunk?"

"Yup."

"Hate for the detail to see that. Maybe, I oughta sleep here."

"No way!" Gibbs snorted. "You and your goon squad need to go find an all night diner and get you some coffee and eggs."

Fornell's eyebrow rose. "That don't sound half bad actually."

…

McGee leaned on the convenience store door and blinked as he entered the fluorescent lighting of a 7-11 at midnight. The skinny kid with the greasy hair was at the counter as usual wearing another dirty concert t-shirt. He held up a cup.

McGee smiled. "Seriously? I'm that predictable."

"I saw you pull into pump 4 a couple of minutes ago. I figured you were heading in for your usual. One part dark roast, one part decaf, two parts milk, and a teaspoon of sugar."

Tim chuckled as he took it. "It's my bedtime concoction. Gets me home with my eyes open but ready to sleep."

The kid leaned against the lottery scratch offs. "Still won't drink it in the car, will you?"

He shook his head as he took a long draw. "She's my baby. I'm keeping her pristine."

"No badge tonight."

McGee rattled his brain for the kid's name. They talked every Tuesday night when he stopped for gas after work. "I only wear it when I'm tired and I forget to take it off."

"You like being an agent? Carrying a gun?"

Kenneth? Keith? He was sure it was a K name. "I like the work. It's good, honest, hard work."

"Bet you like putting away bad guys." The kid folded his scrawny arms. "I wish I had a chance to do something like that. But they don't take guys with just high school diplomas, do they?"

"Kevin!" It came out louder than he meant. "Yeah, um, you would need a degree under your belt, but you're young. You could do that."

Kevin shrugged. "Barely graduated high school. Too many drugs. I've only been clean for 8 months. Bet they don't take addicts."

McGee took another gulp. "Kevin, you can still make your own future. The fact that you overcame something like a drug addiction says that you're capable of accomplishing big things."

"Didn't think of it like that."

"You should think of talking to someone from the Navy. That might be a good place to start. You could serve a few years, get out and get your degree on the GI bill, and then federal law enforcement is a real possibility."

Kevin screwed up his face. "No short cuts, huh?"

"Nothing worth having gets handed to you, you know." McGee grimaced when he realized he had just parroted one of this father's most annoying platitudes.

"I suppose you're right." The kid seemed to deflate.

McGee emptied the cup and slapped three dollars on the counter. "Listen Kevin, don't knock the Navy. A lot of guys really turn their lives around in the service. Really. I'll get the names of a couple of guys you can talk to- not recruiter types. Actual sailors. You can get the real story."

"But you were in, right?"

McGee looked down. He had no interest in explaining that he was basically Navy royalty who'd been born with every advantage possible. All he would've had to do was say it, and Annapolis would've been his. "Well, my old man was in. I never went in, myself."

"Don't sweat it. Not everyone's cut out. Hey, remember they let you be a Navy cop anyways."

He blushed. "Yeah, that's right. It's almost midnight. I gotta get home."

"See you next week, Tim."

McGee nodded. "You too, Kevin."

The cold air hit him as he walked out of the store. Sleeping would be hard tonight. Too many things left undone at work. All of it would swirl around in his head like accusations until some 2-3 a.m. and then he'd be up again at 6:30. Recently, he'd gotten a prescription for a sleep aid, but he was so worried he'd sleep through his alarm that he hadn't started taking them.

He started to climb in his Prius when he heard a voice.

"Hey man, I was wondering if you could give my brother and I some directions."

McGee turned. The man was Caucasian, slightly built. He had both hands stuffed in the front pockets of his jeans. "Where are you headed?"

"Uh, Alexandria. It's probably simple, but we're new to the area and I think we got turned around. I can't figure out the GPS on my phone."

McGee pointed at the highway. "Well, you're going want to get on the 395 going north and you can hop on at the second stopligh-."

The taser caught him on the back of his neck and dropped him convulsing wildly, to the ground.

…

Jake looked up when Gibbs approached the desk. "They called you, right?"

"Morning, Jake. Who called?" Gibbs said as he showed his badge and signed in.

"Agent on-call."

"Nope. Why would he call? Got a case?"

Jake ran nervous fingers through his hair. "That's gotta be good news, right? If he didn't call you, it was probably because it's all worked out."

Gibbs put down the pen. "Jake, what's going on?"

"Uh, McGee…something weird happened."

Gibbs leaned in. "Take it from the top."

"Okay, he left here at 2305 hours. Seemed good. Got a call from some frantic store clerk at 0430. Said McGee had stopped for gas and then left his car. Clerk called the cops but couldn't get them interested. Apparently, there's a strip club across the street and a couple of bars. They were pretty sure he'd wandered off to quench his thirst. The clerk told me that McGee's car was just sitting there right at the pump. Says he knows McGee would never leave his car like that. I called the agent on-call and gave him the location of the gas station…I would've called you but you know, protocol says I go with the agent on-call…which is Syverson…and he uh…well, it's been almost three hours. I figured he would've called you. Doesn't sound like McGee to go slumming on a work night like that, does it?"

Gibbs' face was like granite. "Get Syverson on the phone."

Jake stabbed numbers and handed it to Gibbs. "Hey, it's Gibbs. You checked into this thing with McGee?...What the hell, Ronnie?!...No, he's not tying one on. That's not McGee!…I don't care about your other situation!"

Gibbs slammed the phone down hard. "I need the address on the gas station, Jake."

…..

Tony got out of the truck and surveyed the scene. There'd been something in Gibbs' voice when he called. It had worked its way into his gut, and he'd ignored most of Bishop's questions on the way over.

"Is it a crime scene?"

He turned, noting her young, eager face. "Don't do anything until I tell you."

"We don't even know what's going on!"

He put up a hand signaling her to stay quiet. Gibbs was standing between McGee's Prius and a kid in a t-shirt drawing nervously on a cigarette. Gibbs caught his eye and gestured at the kid. Years of working together boiled down to a simple nod. He turned to Bishop. "Secure the car. Twenty yards in all directions. Call Dorneget. We're going to need another team here."

"I still don't understand," she said standing there, struggling to balance two heavy crime scene boxes.

"Do it!" he said sharply and headed for the kid. He was huddling against the brick of the building for warmth. DiNozzo nodded. "You saw McGee last night?"

"Yeah. Almost every Tuesday. I start at 10 p.m. four nights a week. He always gets gas, comes in, and has a coffee and milk. Drinks the whole thing right at the counter. Won't drink anything in the car."

Tony's mouth twitched but he said nothing.

"He went out to his car and then nothing. I wasn't watching. I was texting my girlfriend. She wants to take a break. I told her it was bullshit. She's just mad that I won't party with her. I'm clean. 8 months now."

"Alright. Let's stay focused…what's your name?"

"Kevin. You know, Tim and I talked every time he came in. Nicest guy. Thought the Navy could be a new start for me."

Tony nodded. "When did you notice something was wrong?"

"I must've been texting for awhile. A few customers came through. Quiet night. Um, I was going to change garbage cans at 1:30 and I noticed that the Prius was still there. I thought it had to be someone else's, but I went out and it was empty. Driver's door was wide open. I closed it. It looked like Tim's. I checked the bathroom. Nothing. I went back in the store and watched. No one came. I called 911 around 2:15."

"That's good, Kevin. Squad came?"

"They came and read me the riot act on waiting 24 hours before issuing a missing person's. Said he was probably over at the strip joint, but I knew they were wrong. If Tim wanted to get a drink, he could've parked his car over there. He called that car his baby. He would never have left it at the pump. I don't got a good feeling about this."

"Have there been any problems around here lately?"

"Yeah. I mean, running a convenience store at night is one of the most dangerous jobs ever. I've been held up three times in two years. There was even a carjacking a while ago, but if it was thieves, why didn't they take the car? They don't like hybrids or something? I don't get it."

Tony sighed. "Me neither. Listen Kevin, I know you've been up all night and I'm going to get someone to drive you home, but we're probably going to need more from you later."

"Anything, man. I mean, most people don't talk to the guy at the counter. Tim was different. He thought I had potential. I always looked forward to seeing him, you know."

Tony nodded and turned to Gibbs. For a moment, they just frowned at each other, but then Tony walked over, unsatisfied with the limits of their instinctual telepathy.

"You got a feeling?"

Gibbs's eyes scanned the area. "Two choices. He left on foot, walking or chasing someone. Or he was taken. He didn't call for backup. McGee isn't careless like that. If he was giving pursuit, he would've called."

"Yeah. And he wouldn't have left the car at the pump if he was walking away."

"Someone took him. There's gotta be forensics around the car somewhere."

Tony snorted. "Mingled with the 900 other people that stand in that spot every day."

"Who took him, Tony?"

There was something in Gibbs' voice that made Tony shiver. They were dealing with no active cases at present and if it came down to who was pissed at the team, the list was a mile long.

"I don't know. Why don't we throw 500 cases up into the air and see which one lands on top."

"Focus, dammit! Who's been released? Who's been complaining? Threatening us? You know the drill. I'll get Abby into his computer. You're supervising this crime scene. Find something!"

Gibbs stalked off and Tony turned and cursed into the air. He saw Bishop standing there staring at him, heavy boxes still hanging off her arms. He wanted to scream at her to grow up, but the helplessness in her eyes so closely mirrored his own that he couldn't do it. He took a deep breath. "I take lead and you watch everything I do. Got it?"

She slowly nodded.

…

Abby stared into his computer screen, pretending there was nothing in front of her but a problem for her to solve. It was hard. The size of her brain was only eclipsed by the size of her heart. Fear for her geek whirled in her gut like a tornado, but she couldn't show it. Gibbs was watching her. She could feel his eyes. He needed something to work with- a suspect, piece of evidence. Until then, he could only stand there glaring at the numerous agents digging through cases. She needed to find something for him to hold onto.

McGee's computer was like a museum filled with pristine, flawless databases and tools. Everything was laid out with order and precision. She quickly found a file named Revenge hidden in a little used application and she opened it. Every case for the last ten years was there with names, family members, prisons, release dates, etc… McGee had been waiting for this to happen. She couldn't help the smile on her face. Her geek was ready for every eventuality.

"Abby?"

Startled, she blinked up into the Gibbs' worried eyes. "Tim created a database of everyone you've arrested in the last ten years. He did most of the work for you."

"Up on the screen!"

She keyed it in and it came up.

"Listen up!" Twenty heads popped up. "We work from this database starting now!"

Agents lined up around the screen while Abby printed out the copies. Then she turned back to the computer.

"I need space," Gibbs looked up and saw Vance at the top of the stairs. He muttered to Tony. He headed up the stairs, DiNozzo on his heels. They walked past Vance and he followed them into his office. Gibbs stood in the center of the room, eyes closed, rubbing his forehead. "What makes sense right now?"

"Payback," Tony said softly.

Gibbs shook his head. "Payback looks like perps walking up to McGee and capping him right there."

"Agreed." Vance nodded.

"Then it's personal. Someone wants to see him suffer."

Gibbs glared. "We work cases together, Tony! I run the interrogations. You provide the irritation to keep them off balance. Who looks past that to find the guy who's always polite?"

"If Someone's trying to hurt you, Boss, this is how they do it."

Gibbs nodded. "Yeah. That fits."

"You're both forgetting something."

"What are we forgetting, Leon?"

"McGee knows a lot. He's a walking encyclopedia of NCIS activity. What if someone wants him for information."

Gibbs nodded. "Okay. What does he know that no one else does?"

Vance sighed. "It wouldn't have to be much. McGee spends a lot of time in MTAC. He hears a lot. The thing with McGee is that he's accessible. I have a security team. It would be hard to get to me. Most fools would see that taking you would be like beating on a brick wall. McGee is accessible and he's young and he looks soft."

"Someone thinks they can get information out of him," Tony said, nodding.

"What does he know now that people want?"

"It could be anything, Jethro."

The door burst open and Abby was standing there, breathing hard.

"Abbs!"

"I hacked his phone! There's been activity!"

Tony put his arm around her. "Slow down. What do you have?"

"Two texts sent at 6 a.m. and 7:15. Both sent to Diane the ex. Both asking if she has time to meet. The texts say he has algebra books for Emily."

Gibbs pointed. "This is it. This is about Fornell. The Arnold brothers have McGee."

….

"I'll schedule a meet." Diane said as she paced. "I'll schedule a meet and you'll get 'em."

"Hold on. We need time, Diane. You text him and tell him you've been in meetings all day and you'll call in a couple of hours to meet. We want to hear his voice."

She flashed eyes at Gibbs. "Think what they're doing to him. We need to get him out of there as soon as possible."

"Texting that you'll call him ensures that they keep him alive while we plan."

She swung around. "Where's Emily?"

"Tony took her downstairs. She'll hang out with Bishop."

She ran a shaky hand through her hair. "They took Tim so they could get to me and Emily. Oh my God! All he was doing was helping with her schoolwork. He was so patient with her. You know what she can be like." Her voice caught. "Of course, he jumped out of his damn skin whenever I got near."

"Hold it together, Diane. We're going to need your help here."

Vance's door opened and Fornell came through. Diane ran over and hugged him fiercely. Fornell looked past her at Gibbs. "You sure?"

"He's missing and the only way he thinks to do is text Diane. They're trying to flush her and Emily out into the open."

Fornell disengaged from Diane. "McGee didn't write those. The kid's a solid agent."

"They're texting her because they can't convince him to talk on the phone. What kind of morning do you think he's having?"

Fornell looked at Vance's clock. "It's almost noon. How long have they had him?"

"About twelve hours now. You know these humps. We need a briefing. What's happening to my agent?"

"Diane, you want to check on Emily?"

She folded her arms across her chest. "Not a chance in the world, Tobias."

"Three brothers leading a militia group. They are equal opportunity douche bags. The government. Taxes. Racial minorities. Jews. Gays. Immigrants. They feed off hate. They started pulling petty crimes almost twenty years ago. Things didn't get serious until they blew up a postal office in Arkansas for losing mom's tax refund about 9 years ago."

"You said they hate taxes," Vance said.

"Apparently they are amenable to refunds. Oldest brother is Chuck, then Darrell, and then little Winston. We got Chuck seven years ago when they set off a bomb at a multi-racial wedding. Two people died. Chuck left some DNA on a blasting cap, and I headed the manhunt that took him down. The trial was a real farce. He refused to recognize the government's right to prosecute him. Tried to be his own lawyer. There was dinner theatre every day until the judge banned him from the proceedings. He's got a date with a lethal injection in four weeks."

"How did you hear there was a price on your head?"

"Terrorism task force picked up chatter about the Arnold boys avenging Chuck. An eye for an eye. They called me a chipmunk. I take issue with that. Got called that when I was a kid."

"Tobias, let's stick to McGee."

"Of course. We're working this together. You'll have access to everything we have on these assholes."

Leon leaned forward. "Have they tortured before?"

"We found an informant they caught once. The details aren't important."

"Tobias!"

He wheeled on Gibbs. "Really, Jethro. Imagining what's happening to the kid right now is going to help you find him? Bullshit!"

Gibbs glared at him. "Is Chuck running this from prison?"

"Doubtful. We never saw him as the thinker. He's just mean. Word is that Darrell is the real Hitler in this group. Winston, on the other hand, is a strange little bird. He was in the army for five years. Munitions expert. When he got discharged is when the group turned to explosions. Army gave us his file."

"Why are they still at large?"

"There's an underground network. These idiots move an average of once a month. They're heroes in a number of hate communities. We're speculating that they are contracting for hire at this point. Winston is a genius with explosives. We got agents that have studied his work. It's the only way we know where they've been."

"Did they really think they could get their brother out of prison if they took us hostage?"

Fornell shook his head. "An eye for an eye, Diane. Think about it. They aren't trying to get Chuck out of prison. Killing my family is justice for them. It's why I had to stay away from you and Emily."

Diane threw up her arm. "Come on! They must be on to us. Do they really think we don't know what's going on?"

"It's a good question," Vance added.

Gibbs shook his head. "They took McGee from a gas station. Their one mistake was leaving the car at the pump. If the kid hadn't known McGee, he probably would've called a tow truck instead of the police. He's been missing from work only four hours. Hardly reason to sound the alarms. They probably figure they have until the end of the day before suspicions are raised. Only gives us a few more hours before they kill him."

"Yeah." Fornell nodded. "Diane, it's about time we send them a text."

…..

The man with the dark eyes lifted his chin. "I know you know where she lives."

He shook his head sharply.

"Okay." The man turned, grabbed the pipe, and studied McGee tied to the chair, his hands cuffed behind him. "Which rib didn't we break, Winston?"

The other man sat on a counter, his arms hugging his knees. "I hate this, Darrell."

The dark eyed man gave him a look. "You can blow him up later. Promise."

Then without warning, he swung the pipe at McGee's side. McGee's head went back and he let out a strangled cry. The chair tilted from the force and the man grabbed it to steady it. He looked back at his brother. "You could be more helpful."

The small man shuddered and looked away. Darrell turned back to McGee. "Compose yourself. Seriously. You've got answers and we need them."

McGee felt like a building on fire. Every part of his body burned. Even his throat, raw from screaming, burned. He'd lost all sense of time and place. Had hours become days or minutes? It was impossible to know. The pipe had connected with the back of his neck at one point, and he remembered that they had to throw water at him to wake him.

They wanted Diane and Emily, but, in the chaos and pain, the reasons didn't become clear to him immediately. When they did, he could only put together parts of the equation. He knew they would kill them if he gave up information. It was also connected to Fornell in protective custody. But even with this clarity, there were moments when his mind told him that giving up the information was the right thing to do. His fear reasoned with him; told him that they would be held hostage and then rescued- just as Emily had been months earlier. He'd spent time with her and she hadn't acted traumatized. She would survive this as well. His only responsibility was to his own safety. Gibbs had said as much many times.

But his fear could only get so far with these games. The larger truth was that he stood between monsters and a mother and her daughter. Gibbs' face came to him over and over. It didn't matter what words Boss said. His example spoke louder. Gibbs would never compromise at the expense of two lives.

McGee closed his eyes and apologized to the Marine once again. He would hold out as long as he could hold off his fear, but he had no doubt that a time would come when he would babble every truth he could think of to stave off the pain.

Behind him, Darrell uncuffed his right hand, and cuffed the left to the spokes of the chair. He pulled the right hand forward and McGee looked up at him through swollen eyes. "No, please."

He placed McGee's hand on a table and looked back at Winston. "You hold or you smash. Choose one."

"God, I hate you when you're like this, Darrell!"

McGee tried to pull his hand away. "No. Let's talk. Come on! I want to talk!"

"Get over here and lean your body over his arm like this." Darrell grabbed Winston when he got close and pushed him over McGee's arm.

"No. No. Please. I know things. No. Please." McGee's head rocked back and forth. "I'll tell you addresses. Promise."

Darrell stopped and looked at him. "You'll tell me fake addresses to stall for time. You're still an arrogant fool. This is the lesson you need to understand that you can't mess with us."

He picked up a hammer turned to McGee's outstretched hand. "Flex or fold 'em. It doesn't matter. I'm not going to finish until the bones are rattling around in pieces."

"Please!" McGee screamed as Darrell swung the hammer over his head and onto the table.

TBC


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Chapter 2 is up. McGee is going through a number of reactions as he deals with his present circumstances. Some of them might not make sense to you, but they just made sense to me with what I know about fear and shock. I am so glad you are still reading. Sheila

The Fear Game

Chapter 2

Minutes later, McGee's head lolled on his chest. Moments of clarity blurred in and out. The hand sat on his lap now, but he didn't know as his own. It was large and purple and red. A weird buzzing sensation sat between him and true pain. Was it shock? Had the hand been detached? Would he get a new one? These were questions that needed answers but there was no real hurry. There was time for all understandings to come to light. Darrell moved past his eyes, and he watched him warily. Anger toward the man was replaced with a sort of awe and admiration. He was a man doing a job, and his commitment to it was commendable. He wondered if Gibbs would like Darrell.

A familiar buzz sounded, and McGee wondered if it was his hand communicating with him. He focused on the badly swollen blob. Then the little bald one jumped up. "Darrell, there's a text from the female. She says she can talk to McGee in a couple of hours. Says she's in meetings. You don't think they're on to us, do you?"

"Nope. They're not that clever. She's going to call, huh?"

"Yeah."

"Alright. We need to leave him alone for a bit. He needs a voice when she calls. Give him some water."

Winston jerked his head up, and poured bottled water between his swollen lips. McGee groaned and then choked.

"Take it easy. Let's not drown the idiot."

Winston went at it more slowly, and McGee was able swallow several gulps. The water went away and his head dropped again. Idiot. Idiot. Darrell called him an idiot. Outrage flooded his gut. He was afraid. He was weak, but he sure as hell was no idiot. It was an unfair characterization. McGee felt his generosity toward Darrell start to shift.

…..

"How did they know McGee's connection to Diane and Emily? McGee didn't put up a billboard. How did they know his connection to your family? How did they find out, Tobias?"

Fornell narrowed his eyes. "That's a good question, Jethro, but I get the feeling that you think you know the answer."

"You were complaining in my basement about it. Where else did you complain about McGee sniffing after your woman?"

Fornell locked eyes with Gibbs. "You accusing the FBI of having a mole?"

"How did they find out!?"

"Did I talk about it at all in the squad room? I don't know. Maybe. What about you? Did McGee talk about it in your squad room?"

"So now I'm the one with the mole! The Arnold brothers decide the best way to get to you and your family is through NCIS? Doesn't make any damn sense!"

"They know we're close."

"We were close, Tobias. Right now, that's the tense that best describes our relationship."

"Gentlemen!" Vance barked. "Focus! Please!"

"There is a mole, Leon."

"Agreed. This afternoon our focus is on the meet and McGee. When this is done, we turn over both agencies and see what falls out. Got it?!"

Gibbs nodded and wandered over to the far side of the room. The tension was so tight that DiNozzo thought he was going to explode. He stood. "They're going to choose the meet. They'd be fools to let Diane suggest something."

Gibbs shook his head. "They don't know we're on to them. They might feed out some line before they try to set the hook. They don't want to spook her."

"Yeah," Fornell said looking at Diane. "She'll play it cool. She'll suggest a spot, but we won't push it if they have other plans."

Gibbs paced. "We have two task forces this afternoon. One for the meet and one to recover McGee. Abby and your FBI techs are going to start a trace the moment the phone line opens. We know they are holding him somewhere close."

Fornell nodded. "I'll run the meet task force. You should take the recovery one."

"That's mighty nice of you, Tobias," Gibbs drawled.

"Really, Jethro? How about we save the alley fight until this is over!"

"Believe me when I say that there will be a time and a place," He growled from one side of the room. "DiNozzo! I want six teams of four ready when we do the trace. Make sure there's a Metro cop on each team. I want them already out in the field in various spots within a thirty mile radius. We move the minute Abby has a trace."

Tony bolted from the room.

Fornell kept his eyes on Gibbs as he led Diane to a chair. "You should make the call in about 45 minutes. Let's rehearse."

Gibbs sat at the other end of the table with a face like granite, and Vance positioned himself between them.

"Okay Diane," Fornell handed her a phone. "Let's role play. Pretend you're calling McGee."

…

"Boss, can you hear me?" McGee mumbled to himself. "Concentrate, Boss. I know if you concentrate, you can hear me. Boss, I want you to know how sorry I am. I haven't acted like a man. Screaming. Begging. Pleading. Never you. You would've been a man, Boss. I'm so sorry. I get to say sorry. The weak say sorry, and that's me right now."

"What the hell is he saying, Darrell?"

"Can't make it out, the poor bastard. Probably in shock. The last guy we did cried for his mommy for two hours before we finished him. Remember that? No more beating him until we get through the phone call. We need him to take that call." Darrell strode over and pulled McGee's head up. "You'll talk to Diane for us."

McGee eyed him warily. "You'll kill me anyway."

Darrell leaned in until he was inches from McGee's face. "Listen to me 'cause I'm not going to lie to you. You are going to die today, but you have a choice. You make a date with Diane, and you get a bullet between the eyes. Swift. Painless. You give me any trouble and it goes down like this. First, I uncuff your left hand and smash it worse than your left. Then I do a kneecap. Then I do the other. Then I do your nose and then your jaw. Maybe, I do your ankles next. I smash and smash and smash. I'll stop between hits so you can really feel the effect. For hours. For days. There won't be an intact bone in your body when I'm done. What do you think?"

McGee felt a weird relief flooding through him. Darrell was again showing that he was a fair man. One simple phone call was all he had to do to get out of this mess. Dying wasn't his number one choice, but Darrell could make it a quick one. He locked eyes with his captor. "I'll take the call."

"Good! Winston, feed him water every ten minutes. I want him to be as lucid as possible."

He let McGee's head drop. McGee closed his eyes and searched the depths of his struggling mind for Gibbs again.

….

Tony sat in Vance's reception area alone with his eyes closed. The teams were set and on their way. The call would happen in minutes. Abby and an FBI tech were already in Vance's office for the trace. Tony knew he should be in there, but the energy was too electric. He couldn't think with Gibbs and Fornell circling each other like a couple of tigers.

He rubbed at his eyes. The next few hours would be crucial. Every decision was going to have to be quick and correct. Even then, odds were against bringing the probie in alive. He'd allowed himself no time to think about it. Too dangerous. Just like it was right for Fornell to deny details on the Arnolds' history of torture. It was all irrelevant to the task of getting him back.

Still, Tony knew he had to steel himself for a bad result, and the thought of it left him queasy. There had to be a limit to the number of losses a man could endure. Losing Kate was something he still felt everyday. Ziva's loss was an open wound. Add McGee's and he was sure he would literally choke on his grief. It wasn't an existence he cared to live.

He felt a presence and his eyes flew open, ready to mouth something sharp and dismissive, when he found young Emily Fornell sitting next to him.

She looked up at him. "I know what it's like to be kidnapped."

He studied her. "I know you do."

"I came out of it fine."

He nodded.

"Tim will too, won't he?"

DiNozzo swallowed. "We certainly hope so."

"Dad says they knew I would be safe."

Tony hesitated. No one in law enforcement ever assumes a good outcome with a kidnapping. It so rarely ever happens. Fornell had been a maniac when she was taken. "Every situation is different, Emily."

She nodded. "I was kidnapped for ransom. Tim was kidnapped in order to get at me and Mom."

"Yeah. Something like that."

"A few weeks ago, Tim was tutoring me and I was trying to distract him 'cause I hate algebra, and so I told him about this friend of mine. She keeps getting into trouble and Mom and Dad want me to stop hanging out with her, but she's my friend. She always has been. She's had my back since kindergarten. Like even my other friends don't like her, but I can't give up on her. She never did with me. I was telling him about this, and he said it was like you and him. No matter how different you both are and no matter what you've been through, he said that you and he are going to be friends forever. No matter what."

Tony's eyes stung. "It's true."

"Tim said it's a really rare thing when you find a friend like that. He told me to never give up on her. He's right about that, isn't he?"

"Yeah. Tim's pretty much always right."

She reached over and squeezed his hand. "You'll never give up on him. That's what is going to save him."

Tony closed his eyes and squeezed. No other response was possible.

"Tony! It's time to make the call."

His eyes popped open to find Abby gesturing to him from Vance's door.

…

McGee rehearsed it over and over in his head. It was hard. His thoughts were still focused on the fear of more pain. The break they'd given him from the torture allowed some of the fog to clear. It helped him understand that he was elevating Darrell in his mind to a position of savior/destroyer- much like a battered woman might with her abuser. Darrell controlled his destiny, and as much as it scared him, he knew he would have to end his life with dignity. The coming pain choked him and it was hard to settle his breathing. Again, he repeated it in his head. "Call Fornell, Diane. They want to kill you. Call Fornell, Diane. They want to kill you."

The familiar sound of his phone erupted his thoughts and he opened his eyes to find Darrell standing in front of him with the phone and hammer in the other. "You do what I tell you or the smashing starts again."

McGee swallowed and nodded. Darrell opened the call on speaker and leaned the phone to McGee's ear. "Hello," he whispered.

"Tim, I'm glad you called."

McGee licked his lips, his eyes on Darrell. "Listen to me, Diane-"

"No, you listen to me. We need to meet. We need to talk about what happened last week."

McGee grimaced. He hadn't seen her in weeks. His mind felt cloudy again. "Diane, you nee-"

"You were right, Tim. We are good together. Last week in the motel- I can't stop thinking about it."

He shook his head. "Danger, Diane-"

"Tobias doesn't have to know. Do you understand me, Tim? He's not my husband. I'm a free woman. Let's talk. I have to see you."

"It's not-"

"Charley's on 395. We can talk there. I dropped Emily off at her friend's house. I can be there in an hour. Trust me, Tim. It's the right thing to do."

"You have to listen-"

"No. No excuses. Can you be there? Yes or no."

McGee frowned. Diane played so many games. It was hard to know what was real and what wasn't. Organizing his thoughts was beyond his current capabilities.

"Say yes, Tim. Just say yes."

"Yes," he whispered into the phone.

"Good. I'll call you in 45 minutes to make sure you were able to get away." The phone clicked. Darrell pulled it away from him.

McGee stared up at Darrell. "What will you do to her?"

Darrell shook his head and smiled. "You dog. You were banging Fornell's female. I oughta make you an honorary Arnold brother."

…..

"He sounded weak, confused." Diane sat and stared at her cell phone.

"They've been hurting him for 14 hours," Fornell said. "You can do a lot of damage in that time."

Gibbs and DiNozzo were leaning over Abby. "You got it? Tell me you got the location of McGee's phone!"

She looked up, her eyes red. "Best we can do is a 20 block radius."

Tony straightened up. "Okay! We start with abandoned buildings!"

"Also new tenants!" Gibbs barked. "Basements! Empty Storefronts!"

"On it, Boss!" Tony pulled his walkie talkie to his face and ran out of the room. Abby followed.

Gibbs looked at Fornell. "You set to grab the Arnolds at Charley's?"

Fornell nodded. "Can't believe they let Diane choose a location."

"They don't think we know anything. What I've read from your files tells me that the Arnolds are not precision criminals. They're going to sit in the parking lot and wait for her. I'm sure they plan to grab her without much regard for possible witnesses."

They went silent for a moment. Diane looked up. "He was trying to warn me."

"Yeah," Gibbs nodded. "Good thing you have experience interrupting people, Diane. You kept him in line. You didn't give him a chance to blow it by warning you. It will probably be the reason we find him alive- if we do. Good job."

She bit her lip and nodded.

Gibbs looked at the clock. "I gotta go. Command post is in the squad room."

She looked up. "Will you be back up when I have to make the final call?"

Gibbs shook his head. "There is no final call, Diane. We just had you say that to buy him more time."

She looked from Gibbs to Fornell. "They're expecting to hear from me in 45 minutes. What happens if I don't call?"

"It gives us an hour, maybe two. If you did call, it would only hasten his death."

Fornell stood. "I'm sorry, Jethro. I hope to hell it isn't my fault that he got taken."

Gibbs stopped at the door and looked down. "Tobias, It isn't really going to much matter whose at fault if we can't find him in time, is it?"

"No, I guess not," he said as Gibbs disappeared.

…..

Winston shook his head. "This is messed up. She's going to call him again. We're going to have to take him along."

"No," Darrell said circling McGee. "I'll go and get her. You and our friend, Tim, will stay here and wait for the next call."

He lifted McGee's chin. "You have one more little part to play. You don't do it right and I promise you the worst ten hours any man has ever had to endure."

McGee closed his eyes.

"I don't want to be alone with him," Winston whined.

"Please Winnie! Strap some C4 to his chest or something. We'll use it to blow him up after I break bones."

"How long before you're back, Darrell?"

Darrell kept his eyes on McGee. "GPS tells me I can be there in thirty minutes. The minute she gets into the parking lot, I'll take her. I'll bring her back here and we'll party all night. Sound good, Tim?"

McGee felt hot tears on his cheeks. He hadn't warned her. He'd let her play another wicked game at his expense. Gibbs would never forgive him for this even in death.

Darrell strapped on a coat and grabbed his coat. Then he pointed at Winston. "When she calls, you make him say, "I'm at Charley's." Nothing more. You hear?"

Winston nodded.

"Okay then. Be good, boys. Don't do anything I wouldn't do!" Darrell clammered down the metal steps of the warehouse and disappeared.

…..

Winston tried to pick up McGee's right hand and he howled. Winston put it back. "It won't fit in the handcuff again swollen up like it is. Maybe, I'll just tie it to your side."

McGee watched as the smaller man looked for rope. He had already set out all the components of his bomb on the table. He was so matter of fact about this process of wiring a man to die that it almost felt like they were two men in line at the post office. McGee found that he was almost soothed by Winston's energy. It was a welcome change from Darrell's rage.

There were a number of questions needing his attention, but the pain in his right hand was wild and unrelenting. All of his energy was put into seeking relief from that and the other parts of him that were in agony. It was so bad that he was unable to analyze Diane and her weird responses. Every once in a while, flashes of insight emerged, but he couldn't connect them into any real ideas.

The only thing he was certain of was that a lot of games were being played. There was Diane and her need to provoke. Darrell and his need to terrify. And then there was Winston methodically building his bomb like a child in front of a pile of Legos.

Through the fog of pain, a central truth emerged. He hadn't warned Diane. Why she was playing another charade gnawed at him, but his usually agile mind couldn't put order to any sort of reasoning. He rolled his head to the side. "I killed her, didn't I?"

"Darrell will do the killing," Winston said as he slowly wound duct tape around McGee's torso. "You don't have to worry about that."

McGee focused on Winston. "You're a sociopath."

Winston stopped briefly to consider that idea. "That means I don't care about what happens to others, right? I reckon I care, but only about those folks that are a part of my world. You're part of the government machine. That machine took Chuck and they are going to kill them. You're the machine."

McGee grimaced. "I'm a person!"

Winston shook his head tersely before continuing his work. "You chose the machine, Tim. You chose the machine."

He looked up at the ceiling. "Diane and Emily didn't. A woman and her child. They're innocent. You're really the kind of monster that kills a woman and her child?"

"It hurts Fornell."

McGee grit his teeth as Winston attached the charge to his battered chest. "They are not the machine! They are people!"

Winston scowled at him. "I wish Darrell was here. He don't put up with back talk. You'd stop it then."

"You can have me." He said, eyes wet. "I am the machine. They're not the machine. Please Winston, they are not the machine!"

Winston leaned against the table and looked at McGee's phone. "I wish Darrell were back. It's been 45 minutes. That female should've called by now."

"Help them, Winston! Fix my mistake. Please help them!"

Winston gave him a funny look and then picked up the duct tape again.

…..

"It's been an hour!" DiNozzo paced in front of the large screen. MTAC had been turned into a de facto war room. The screen was filled with an interactive map of the radius Abby had identified for McGee's cell signal. Dots of different colors indicated the six teams and their locations. Gibbs stood and stared at the map, not a muscle moving on him anywhere.

"We should be out there," Tony hissed as he passed Gibba again. "This is craziness!"

Audio sounded overhead. "Team Green reporting in. Vector 274 has been cleared. Ready for new assignment. Over."

"Bishop!" Gibbs barked.

"Go to vector 311, Green Team. Check out warehouse on the corner of 91st and Winnetka and brick building at 4223 Winnetka. Over and out," Ellie said into her headset.

"You should call Fornell," Tony said. "You should call him."

"Gibbs!"

They all turned to see Abby on one of the computer monitors. "We analyzed the call for background noises. There is the distinct sound of a foghorn, much like you'd hear on an old trawler or a tug. I think you should focus on the blocks closest to the river."

"Good!" Gibbs turned back to the map. "Bishop, send Teams Red, Blue, and Orange to the vectors closest to the river."

Ellie nodded and started calling out teams.

Gibbs turned, looking at DiNozzo as if he was noticing him for the first time. "You're right, Tony. You should be out there. He deserves a familiar face when we find him."

There was something deeply melancholy in the way that he said this that gutted Tony. "Right. I'll head to vector 305. It's closest to the wharf. Ellie, you send me any addresses that troubleshooting."

She nodded from her place at the monitor. Tony gave Gibbs one last look but the man was riveted to the screen in front of him. Tony grabbed his jacket and took the stairs three at a time.

…

"Agent Fornell? Over."

Fornell picked up the walkie talkie. "Fornell. Over."

"Single male in the parking lot in a 2006 Range Rover black. We're running plates now. Over."

Fornell kept his eyes focused on the redhead agent they planted in Diane's car in the parking lot of Charley's restaurant. "Is he watching her? Over."

"Seems to be focused in that general direction. He's wearing a baseball cap pulled low. Over."

"Stay cool. We got one chance to do this right. Over."

Silence reigned for a moment. He wasn't alone in his car, but it was as if the agent in the passenger seat knew that his job was to be unobtrusive as possible. Fornell gripped the dash as he peered at the agent they planted in the car. Her name was Vaughn. She had twelve years in anti-terrorism and was as tough as nails. They put a red wig on her, but her resemblance to Diane ended there. This worked only if they identified and grabbed him before he got too close. Diane had begged to be plant, and when that didn't fly, she pushed to be a part of the collar. He'd been firm though. His ex-wife's wild energy had no place in this operation. He'd left her in Vance's office with a very pale and quiet Emily.

Static sounded. "Plates belong to a car rental. Name on the rental agreement is Joe Smith. Address and phone are bogus. I think we have our perp. Over."

Fornell straightened up, licking his lip. "Tell Vaughn to slowly get out of the car. Let's see if we can get him to make a move. Over."

He watched as Vaughn slowly emerged, her cell to her ear and her head down to hide her identity. The man in the Range Rover slipped out of the driver's side door and crouched. It was clear his plan was to grab her as she walked past.

Fornell leaned into the walkie talkie and slowly said. "Okay. Let's take him."

Activity erupted on all ends of the parking lot. There was yelling coming from all directions as men and women in nylon jackets came running at the man, guns drawn. Vaughn had wisely dropped to the ground and covered her head. They swarmed him and from all directions, and Fornell smiled when he saw the man put his hands behind his head as directed.

…..

McGee stared at the bomb on his chest with a sense of detachment. It was a fairly complex design. "Failsafe" was a word that kept drifting up from the back of his mind. The red wire clearly led to the detonator, but there was a trigger at the bottom that would set the explosion if anyone touched the wire. McGee had no doubt it would do the job for which it was intended. He raised his eyes at an increasingly anxious Winston. "I thought you were a genius with bombs. I could do this one, and I've only had like two courses in munitions."

"Form follows function," he mumbled. "Don't need an elaborate setup for a simple job."

McGee's weary eyes watched him as he moved from window to window looking for Darrell. The pain in his body had become oddly distant and there was a buzzing in his ears that soothed him considerably. Earlier concerns and fears had drifted away as if long ago, taking with them the last of his inhibitions. "It doesn't hurt so much any more."

Winston ignored him. After minutes of waiting for his brother to appear, he hurried back to the table and returned to scrubbing down the table and floor with a spray bottle that smelled like bleach. He picked up the pipe Darrell had used on McGee's ribs and rubbed it down furiously.

McGee's lids drooped. "You'll get most of the fingerprints, but bleach doesn't destroy blood evidence as well as people think. Abby is a genius too, you know, and she's going to find something. She's really good at this. You cocksuckers are doomed."

Winston continued his meticulous work silently.

The profanity felt good so McGee smacked his dry mouth and droned on. "You want to know about the machine, Winston? My boss is the machine. He's a motherfucking monster machine. He can shoot you in the eye from 100,000 yards. I've seen it. He's got killer eyes- ice water in his veins. He didn't know about you before, but now he's going to hunt you down and shoot you…in the balls…and that's just to start. Wait 'til he strings up your brother by the short hairs"

Winston came over and sprayed the bomb on McGee's chest with bleach. He carefully wiped down each component while McGee warmed to his soliloquy. "Wait 'til you meet Tony. He's going to kill you too. He's going to talk you to death…don't laugh. I know you want to but it's true. It's real torture. These pipes are nothing compared to what he'll do to you. He's going to take you apart. Tell you what a sorry fucking human being you are, Winston. You and your ugly bastard brother."

Winston shook his head and walked away.

Color was high in McGee's cheeks, and he felt like he was floating above himself. "You think your little bomb is going to kill me? I eat bombs like this for breakfast 'cause I'm the machine, remember? When I get out of this, I'm going to kill you too, and it isn't going to be no remote detonated C4. Tony has this movie where these birds pluck out this guy's eyes. I'm going to do that to you, and feed your eyes to the pigeons. And that's just the start. You're going to be sorry your father ever met your mother. You hear that, Winston? You are one dead motherfucker."

Winston leaned against the table, eyes closed. He began muttering to himself. "Don't call. He said to never call if things went bad. Pack up and bug out. Go to the nearest safe house and wait for orders. But don't call. Don't ever call. The machine can trace phones with increasing efficiency."

"Damn right, we can," McGee mumbled as his head bobbed back and forth. "Bug out, Winston. Game's over. Run from the machine."

Winston packed everything into his backpack and picked up with the remote detonator. A crash sounded below and McGee's head jerked up. "Boss!" he croaked instinctively. "Tony!"

Winston ran to the window looking down on the street below. McGee leaned his head that direction and watched as Winston stood there, muttering Darrell's directions to himself over and over. Then he turned and ran for his bag. McGee noticed that he'd left something on the windowsill, but he couldn't make sense of what it was. He turned to a frantic Winston. "Hey douchebag, you left-" In that instant, the fog lifted enough for survival to take hold. "You left your balls on the table, you sorry piece of shit."

Winston didn't even acknowledge him as he slung the bag over his shoulder and headed down the stairs. McGee listened to his footsteps fade away. He glanced over at the detonator. Then he waited for Winston to come to the realization that he'd left it. Nothing.

It felt odd to be alone. He waited for noise but there was nothing. It left him empty, and he wondered if this meant he'd already died. It was an important question, but he felt too tired to give it much thought. He rested his head on his shoulder and his eyes fell on the misshapen thing tied to his side. He couldn't feel it anymore and he wondered if it had died too. The puzzle of it was too great and he closed his eyes.

…..

TBC


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Here's a good long chapter for you. Chapter 4 may take two weeks. Sorry about that. Things are busy, and I have a one shot tugging. Experience has taught me that it's important to get it out before I can really imagine chapter 4 in the way I want. Thanks for your patience! Love hearing from you, Sheila

The Fear Game

Chapter 3

"I'm going to let you have him. I'm just backup," Fornell said as they looked at Darrell Arnold through the two-way mirror. "I want him. No doubt about that, but I don't have as much at stake right now."

Gibbs nodded, his eyes riveted on Arnold.

"By all rights, neither one of you should be in there," growled Vance. "It's too personal."

"It's been four hours since the last call. There's no reason to keep McGee alive this long. We have to accept the truth of that," Gibbs said, his voice monotone.

Fornell looked at Vance and shook his head. "Jethro, killing a handcuffed prisoner is not your style. I'd hate to have to visit you in prison."

He gave a perfunctory shake of his head. "There's more at stake than just recovering McGee. Still another Arnold out there. The bomb maker. Can't kill one Arnold when the bomb maker is out there."

"Who are you trying to convince, Gibbs?"

"Me," he mumbled and turned to Fornell. "Your job is crowd control. Nothing more. Got it?"

Fornell rolled his eyes. "Right. Let's go."

…..

Tony sat in his car under a streetlight in the late evening and watched the team emerge from the building and flash him the all clear. He cursed and reached for his phone. "What's next, Bishop?"

"That's it, Tony. We've covered all the vectors."

"Where's Abby? Put the phone on speaker."

"Hey Tony." Abby's voice was soft and sad.

"Okay people, what did we get wrong?! Is the search area not big enough? Do we need to start on residences? What the hell are we missing?"

"I don't know," Ellie answered.

"That's not an answer, Bishop! Abby, were you wrong about the foghorn?"

"No," she answered.

"Maybe, they moved him," said Ellie.

"There is no reason to move him! They needed him for one thing. That's all. You're an analyst, Bishop. Analyze, dammit!"

"Tony, this isn't helping." Abby's sadness was palpable.

Tony took a breath. "We have to think outside the box, people. Between us, we have enough frickin' brains to cure cancer. Think!"

There was a long silence and then Abby said, "Oh my God, Ellie. You did it!"

"What!?"

"We'll call you back!" The phone went dead. Tony had to restrain himself from throwing it at the windshield.

His walkie talkie sounded. "DiNozzo, do you have a vector for us? Over."

Tony grabbed it. "Everyone, hold your position! Over."

His phone rang and he grabbed it. "Abby?!"

"She's a genius, Tony."

"Talk!"

"All she did was google foghorn and D.C. wharf district and there it was. There is a restaurant called The Trawler. They blow an old foghorn at the top of every hour. The call between McGee and Diane happened right at 3 p.m."

"Is it in the 20 block radius?"

"Yeah. We're calculating new vectors right now. It's in an area we abandoned when we focused closer to the water. I'm sorry, Tony. I didn't think outside the box."

"None of us did."

"If you don't find him alive…" Her voice broke.

"Don't do this, Abby. I need you right now."

Bishop came on the phone. "We have new coordinates for the teams!"

"Good job, probie!"

He winced as he hung up. She was a probie sure enough, but she wasn't the probie. He shook it off and picked up the walkie talkie.

…

"Tell me about him, this McGee you lost," Darrell Arnold drawled. "Two hours in the same room with you and I can say with some certainty that he probably needed a mental health break. You'll undoubtedly find him holed up somewhere trying to figure out how to escape you."

"So you're just an innocent guy in all this. You just show up at Charley's for a happy hour. Nothing more."

Darrell gestured at Fornell. "The chipmunk over there has it in for me. He railroads my brother, and he knows I got the proof."

Fornell snorted. "Great. Let's get you over to the U.S. attorney so you can take me down."

Gibbs slapped the table. "Enough! I've had it up to here with this verbal ping pong! You're not that good at it!"

Fornell took a breath and said slowly, "Handcuffed. Prisoner."

Gibbs ignored him and leaned in toward Arnold. "Let me tell what's going to happen. You kidnapped a federal agent. You tortured him. Most likely had him killed. Every resource in our so-called "machine" is going to focus in on the truth of that."

Darrell glared back at him silently.

"You're going to prison. Luckily, it's not going to be a long sentence because you're going to have a date with a needle. Just like Chuck. 23 hours a day in a cold, dark cell. A shower once a week. No social interaction with anyone but a couple of guards who think you're an animal. You're a dead man, and you'll just be sitting and waiting, and struggling to keep up the smart guy façade while everything in your brain tells you that you fucked up big time."

He shook his head. "You can't scare-"

Gibbs slapped the table again. "I'm looking into your eyes and the truth is that I am scaring you! The "machine" is big and we don't like it when you kill our people. We are very focused right now. You're a dead man, Darrell. How does that feel?"

"I want a lawyer," he hissed.

"Terrorists don't get lawyers especially when they withhold vital information," Fornell said. "We have a missing agent. Plus, there is the problem of Winston. Where is little brother? He might not be as mean as you, but he's more dangerous. He can't keep his dirty little hands off the C4. I bet he lives to watch the explosion; to see the fruits of his labor."

"I haven't talked to Winston in months."

Gibbs leaned back. "Tobias, you said Darrell here was the smart Arnold. If that's the case, the rest of this family must still be counting with their fingers and toes. It's one bad lie after another."

Fornell sighed. "He's right, Darrell. You're in the best bargaining position right now that you are ever going to have. To let this moment pass without working with us is pure idiocy. Looks like mama Arnold raised a fool."

Darrell shifted in his seat. "I can't be held responsible for things Winston does."

"Exactly, Darrell! Now, we're talking."

Darrell worried his lip. "Winston called me today. Wanted me to meet him somewhere."

"Where?!" Gibbs glared.

"Get a U.S. Attorney in here. One authorized to make deals. Nothing happens until then."

…..

Abby sat and watched Ellie as she sent out vectors to teams rapid fire. Her gut was swollen with fear. It pushed up into her throat, and talking was becoming increasingly complicated.

Ellie took her headset off and looked at her. "I got a feeling about this. We're close."

Abby nodded, unable to meet her eyes.

Bishop was new but she'd been there long enough to see how McGee and Abby worked together like they were two parts of a whole. "I'm sorry, Abby. I know you two are close."

"Yeah."

"How long have you known him?"

"Forever," she whispered.

"He's a good guy. I haven't been here that long, but he's really a good person." She hesitated for a moment, but then placed her hand on Abby's.

Abby stiffened and pulled away. "Not now, Ellie. Let's find him and then we'll talk about what he means to me."

…

"What's the address?"

Darrell looked up. "I'm still reading the agreement. It takes a little-"

Gibbs slapped the table and leaned toward him. "This agreement hinges on your cooperation! Now!"

Darrell picked up a pen, his mouth twitching. "I'm all about cooperation." He leaned over and signed where the JAG and the US Attorneys in the room had told him.

"Warehouse at 1800 39th Av. S. Winston told me to meet him on the second floor. I never went. If I had, I could have prevented this whole thing. I will always regret that decision."

Gibbs flipped his phone open. "Tony, I have an address. Warehouse at 1800 39th Av. S…You got that?...Now, listen. You got to be careful. Could be a setup…"

Fornell nodded. "That might be the endgame, Jethro. Get a bunch of agents in a warehouse and blow it sky high. It's got me worried."

Gibbs stared at him for a moment before returning to Tony. "Listen to me, Tony. Don't go in. Just put it under surveillance. I'm calling the bomb squad….It's not going to take that long. 60 minutes tops!…No! You'll wait. We don't know if the place is rigged. You wait! Hear me?!...I'll be there in 30…" Gibbs closed his eyes and softened his voice. "Tony, stop it. You and I, we can't afford unrealistic expectations like that. I'll be there soon."

Darrell nodded. "I hope you find your man in good shape."

"Go to hell!" Gibbs grabbed his coat and headed for the door.

…

Tony was breathing like a locomotive when he pushed through the door. He waited for a moment but there was nothing. No noise. No explosion. He leaned against the wall, a gun in one hand and a large flashlight in the other.

The door moved again and he trained his gun on it. Dorneget came through. Tony dropped the aim of his gun. "What the hell, Dorneget!? Are you stupid? I was very clear about going in alone."

Ned shook his head. "I never heard a worse plan. I know I'm not a genius like everyone else on your team, but I know how to perform in the field, and this plan is stupid."

"Gibbs is going to be here in 15 minutes. You wait for him. Do what he says."

"Someone needs to have your back," Ned hissed.

"No! Get out!"

"It's dark as hell in here. Let me hit the lights."

"No!" Tony lunged at him. "If this place is rigged, then it's probably in the fuse box."

"Okay. Okay." Dorneget stepped back. "Sorry. Let's just go out and wait for Gibbs. It's only a few more minutes."

Tony shook his head. "No way. I wait and the bomb squad takes over. Those old ladies will be sweeping things all night before anyone is allowed in. I can't wait that long."

Ned nodded. "Okay. But I still got your back."

"From the bottom of the stairs here, Ned. That's the best I can allow."

"Tony-"

"Shut up and wait here!" Tony started up the stairs slowly, training his light everywhere for possible trip wires.

His headset erupted in static. Gibbs' voice sounded. "Tony! You have everyone in place?"

Tony licked his lips. "Yeah."

"Tell me you're not in that building."

Tony hesitated on the step for a moment, and then reached over with his gun hand and turned off the audio. Ned shined a light up at him and shook his head.

Tony ignored him and kept climbing. The top of the stairs opened up into a loft area, and DiNozzo was relieved he didn't have to deal with another door. He took a breath at the top of the stairs and stepped onto the worn floor. It was a large space with high ceilings. Tall windows let in some moonlight, and for this he was grateful.

"Tony!" Ned hissed.

DiNozzo looked down at him once more and shook his head. He took another step and slowly trained the light around the room. He didn't see it the first time he circled, but then he caught it. It was a chair in the far corner with a figure slumped in it. He swallowed and croaked, "Tim?"

The figure didn't move. "Tim!"

Still nothing. Fear flooded through him. Maybe, Gibbs was right. He should back off. He had no interest in seeing what they'd done to him. Then he remembered what Gibbs said about McGee deserving a friendly face and he slowly moved forward.

The figure was slumped forward in the chair, and his light could pick up the flash of metallic duct tape wound around his middle.

"I'm sorry, Tim," he whispered. "God, I wish we could've done more. I really do."

His eyes teared but it was dark and he was alone so he didn't care what the world thought. He was maybe fifty feet away when his light caught the works of the bomb, and he sucked in breath. The bastards had wired him.

He opened his audio. "Boss? Boss?"

Audio crackled. "Tony! You need to get out of there!"

"I've located him. Second floor. Southwest corner. Tied to a chair. Bomb wired to his middle."

"Back off! Don't get any closer, Tony!"

Tony felt young. He wanted Gibbs to make this decision. Let the bomb squad do their work. He didn't want to see or know anymore.

"Tony!?"

"I hear you, Boss," Tony said clearly. He got ready to slowly back away when something stirred in his line of sight. He crouched and shined the light around McGee, sure that Winston Arnold was hiding nearby.

"Tony?" Gibbs sounded scared.

The movement happened again and Tony's heart skipped a beat. The movement was on the chair. McGee's head stirred. "Tim? Tim!"

A swollen, deeply colored face rose. Tony narrowed his eyes. This couldn't possibly be his probie. "Tim?"

"Tony." It was less a voice and more a hissing sound.

"Oh God! Tim! I'm here!"

"Tony?!" His headset shouted.

"He's alive, Boss! He's alive!"

There was a pause, and then Gibbs spoke in a low voice. "Don't move, Tony. Just stay where you are. It's a trap. It has to be a trap."

McGee tried to pull at his restraints and Tony's head jerked. "Tim, stay still. Stay still. Boss, he's trying to move around."

"I'm here. You just wait."

Tony struggled to settle his breathing. He heard rapid footsteps and he knew that Gibbs was throwing caution to the wind. Tony turned and flashed his light as Gibbs popped off the stairs. "Get that light out of my face, DiNozzo."

"Take it slow, Boss."

Gibbs ignored him. "Put the light on Tim. I want to see him."

Tony shined it in McGee's direction and Gibbs caught sight of his badly beaten face. "Good job, Tim! You hung in there. I should've known."

McGee lifted his head. "Is this real, Boss? Am I really alive?"

"Damn straight, Probie," Tony said.

"I screwed up, Boss," his voice cracked. "They have Diane."

"No, they don't, Tim. She's safe at NCIS."

"No, I didn't warn her. I had the chance and I didn't warn her," he said, chest heaving.

"He's getting agitated, Boss."

"McGee, listen to me. I'm in charge now. You do everything I say. Got it?"

"Okay."

"Relax. We're going to fix this. Just relax."

McGee's breathing slowed. Gibbs turned to Tony. "You're going to have to coordinate with the bomb squad."

Tony shook his head. "I'm not leaving."

"Listen to me," Gibbs hissed. "We work as a team now. Someone coordinates with the bomb squad and someone stays with McGee. If we are going to get him out of this, Tim is going to follow precise instructions. Who is he going to do that for?"

Tony closed his eyes. "Yeah."

"I don't want anyone in my ear except you. You got that?"

Tony nodded.

"Retrace your steps out of here. You work with them. Give them everything they need so we can get this done."

Tony pointed. "You better not make a mistake. Either one of you. I am not going back to the office by myself. Don't make me look Abby in the eye."

Gibbs was back to studying McGee and didn't answer. Tony wanted to say something to McGee, but he couldn't risk a reaction of any kind. He slowly placed his flashlight on the ground to give Gibbs more light and then he carefully moved back to the stairs.

Gibbs waited until he heard the sound of Tony's feet on the metal stairs. Then he slowly moved toward McGee. "You with me, Tim?"

"I'm in a lot of pain."

Gibbs nodded and flashed his light over him as he circled around him. "I'm sorry about that, Tim. Was it more than Winston?"

McGee nodded into his chest. "Darrell. He destroyed my hand."

Gibbs found the mangled hand with his light and stopped. "It's okay, Tim. We got Darrell. He's in custody."

"Diane? I helped them find Diane."

"No, you didn't. We were with Diane when she called. It was all rehearsed. You wanted to warn her, but we couldn't let you. We needed that phone call to find you."

"I didn't know that," McGee whispered.

"We were ready because of the kind of guy you are. A lot of people see you as a friend and when your car was abandoned at the gas station, everyone knew instinctively that something was wrong. With anyone else, your car would've been towed and I'd be cursing how irresponsible it was to not call in sick. Not you, Tim. We knew right away. The Arnolds never counted on that."

He heard a choking sound and trained his light on Tim's face. McGee was crying. "I didn't get her killed, Boss."

"Shhhh! It's okay, Tim. Stay still. We have to focus on the C4 on your chest."

For a moment there was silence and then a groan as he whispered. "Oh God, I forgot that I was wired."

Gibbs knelt in front of McGee. "You're good at munitions. You understand the mechanics of bomb making better than I do. Every time I send you to a training, I get a call from someone wanting to poach you. I am just lucky they never tried to go behind my back."

"Never would leave you, Boss."

Gibbs smiled. "No, you wouldn't. Can you help me here?"

McGee shook his head. "I was in and out, Boss. The pain is bad."

Gibbs nodded. "I know but I need everything you can remember. Close your eyes."

He closed swollen eyes. "It's on a remote detonator. Winston carried it to the window with him. There's a trigger on it. You try to disarm it and it's going to blow."

"Okay. Do you remember him rigging explosives anywhere else in the room?"

"Not that I could see, but he went downstairs with his bag for awhile before finishing on me. It's impossible for me to say how long. I was in and out."

"You didn't see him rigging anything near you?"

McGee shook his head. "I could use something for the pain, Boss. Maybe you could get something strong for me, and then we'd have you go back downstairs 'til this is over."

"Oh, I don't think so."

McGee lifted his head. "Boss, C4 isn't a real stable explosive especially when it's attached to a body. Over time, it gets temperamental. It might decide on detonating all on its own. There's no reason for you to have to be here for that. People need you."

"Look at me, Tim. You and I are in this together. We're going to solve this together. You hear?"

The audio crackled on Gibbs' headset. "Boss? I'm here with the schoolgirls from the bomb squad. Can't even get 'em in the door. Since it's remote detonated, they figure that Winston Arnold is perched somewhere nearby waiting for the right moment. They say I gotta guarantee he's not in a half mile radius. I told them to go home and do their nails while we spend the night figuring this out for them."

Gibbs sighed. "Tony, insulting them isn't going to help anything."

"Agreed. I will apologize to schoolgirls everywhere."

"I assume you're making sure Winston isn't in the vicinity."

"Yeah. Vance sent over twenty more and Fornell promised 15 in the next hour. If he's nearby, we're going to find the asshole."

"Do we have EMS on site?"

"Yup. And Ducky."

"Put Ducky on."

There was silence while Gibbs waited and then a familiar Scottish brogue signed on. "Jethro! How is he?"

Gibbs glanced at McGee. "He's in a lot of pain, Duck. Shock. He needs something. It's a big risk to have you come in, but if you could bring something to the door, I can dose him."

"I have to assess him. I'm coming in."

"No!" McGee's head bobbed. "Please!"

"It's okay. You need to trust me. I know best. I lead. You follow. Simple math."

McGee looked away, his eyes teary.

Gibbs spoke into his headset. "Tony is going to put a flak jacket and helmet on you, Duck. You only stay for a few minutes."

He cut the audio before any objections could be raised. He turned back to McGee. "Tell me more. What do you remember?"

McGee closed his eyes. "There's a failsafe on the device."

"You already told me that. Tell me more."

"We heard a noise. He ran to the window. It was in his hand…"

"The detonator?"

McGee sucked in breath as he concentrated. "It was on the windowsill, but Winston was afraid. He's a scared little boy without his big brother."

"Tim, are you telling me that it's still on the windowsill?"

"I waited for him to come back, but he didn't, and it just sat there on the sill."

Gibbs shined the light on the windows. "Which window?"

"By the large column." McGee was struggling with pain that was growing with his lucidity.

Gibbs caught sight of an object sitting on the ledge. He moved toward it, shining a light on it. He shook his head and hit audio, "DiNozzo, tell your girlfriends that I have the detonator. Arnold got spooked and left without it."

…..

"What the hell are you doing up here?!" Gibbs barked.

"Couldn't let Ducky come up alone," Tony said.

"I need you down there!"

"No, you don't. Vance is down there now directing things like it's the D-Day landings."

"Protecting Ducky, my ass. Did you think I was going to shoot him? If he tripped a wire, were you going to arrest the explosion? Get your ass back down there, DiNozzo!"

"Not without him," Tony growled defiantly.

"Shhh!" Ducky said, pointing crossly at the two men. He had circled Tim slowly, stopping to examine his hand.

Tim watched him, his breathing shallow. "Don't touch me, Duck."

"I understand," Ducky said softly. "You must be in enormous pain."

"Help me. A pill, please."

"Not fast enough. I'm going to inject you with a bit of morphine."

He jerked his head. "No. You can't touch me. Too risky."

"I know what I'm doing, Timothy."

"Hell, I didn't think it was possible! I thought ol' Tobias was telling me a story." A voice sounded like a sonic boom through the room. All heads turned to see a large man in padded gear and a helmet striding toward them. Fornell followed, wearing only a helmet.

"Finally!" Tony snapped.

"I heard you Navy guys were boneheads. Had no idea your brains were solid rock. Look at you all standing around like a bunch of idiots. I got news for ya'. Even rocks can get blown up by bombs. Bad enough Fornell wouldn't suit up. Little guy like him can blow away in a stiff wind most days. Hate to see what shards of metal would do. Need you all out of here yesterday."

"Tobias," Gibbs said in a low voice.

"Yeah," he said trotting up. "This is Special Agent Marv Miltonoff out of the Nashville office. Been tracking the Arnolds for years. Munitions expert. We just pulled him off a special transport. If anyone can get McGee out of this, it's Milt. He's been studying Winston's work for years."

"Should've focused on catching him," Tony said.

"Get that needle away from him!" Miltonoff barked as he caught sight of Ducky.

"He's in tremendous pain!"

"You want him to live, don't ya? That crap is going to relax his muscles. Shift the explosives. We can't risk it."

Ducky backed away slowly.

"They'll go but I'm staying," Gibbs said firmly as he handed the detonator to Miltonoff.

The man looked at it briefly and then grunted before placing it on the table. "Winston got spooked. No way he was leaving this behind on purpose. That boy loves him some fireworks. And no, Gibbs, you are not staying."

He walked up to McGee and pulled the helmet off his head. "Listen to me, son. We can get out of this if you and I work together. I can see they hurt you bad, but we can't help that until we fix this."

McGee nodded, his eyes focused on the big man wearing decades of hard living all over his face.

Gibbs stepped forward. "I'm going to stay with my agent."

Miltonoff shook his head. "Tobias told me things. Shouldn't have insulted you earlier. I know you're as hard as steel, Gibbs, but you got to let me take this. The boy needs to focus on me and me alone. This is what I do. Life or death."

Gibbs looked at Fornell who nodded. He turned. "You can do this, Tim. No doubts."

McGee fixed on Gibbs. "I just want to say-"

"No!" Gibbs shook his head sharply. "I won't hear it. If it's important, you'll tell me downstairs."

He motioned to the rest of the team giving them hard looks, and they understood that it was crucial to pretend confidence as they walked off the floor together without even a backward glance.

….

Tony stared at the coffee dripping down the side of the sedan. Gibbs had thrown a cup at the car minutes ago and stalked off. Concentrating fiercely on the rivulets of coffee slowly meandering through the grime on the fender took him out of time and to a place far away. He needed the respite from the constant tension of waiting. The last glance at his cell phone told him that 90 very long minutes had passed.

"Hey!"

He blinked and turned to Bishop. "What? Do you know something?"

She stood there looking like a young girl, hair behind her ears, hands stuffed deep in her pockets "We were right about the foghorn. This place is a block from the restaurant. Sorry I didn't catch it earlier."

He shrugged. "You can't know everything."

She looked over at Gibbs who stood off alone staring up at the 2nd floor of the warehouse. "I don't know how to talk to him."

Tony sighed. "No offense, Ellie, but nobody wants to talk right now."

"Sorry." She shifted awkwardly from foot to foot.

He closed his eyes. "It's okay. Just think positive thoughts, okay?"

The audio sounded at the command post set up at a truck next to the sedan. Tony held his breath.

The deep baritone of Marv Miltonoff sounded, "Hey fellers! This situation is an all clear. Over."

Fornell smiled and shook his head. "Copy that, Milt. Good job!"

"You better get EMS and that doctor with the needle up here pronto. This kid's been through hell, Tobias."

"Copy that," Fornell said as he watched Gibbs and DiNozzo race past him to the front door of the warehouse.

…...

TBC


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: The story is back. I've been pretty sick with asthma and bronchitis, and I can't say that my direction is as clear as it should be. Hopefully, you're still with me. Sheila

The Fear Game

Chapter 4

The buttons on the elevator blurred for Gibbs, and he wished he remembered where he'd left his glasses. DiNozzo reached past and pushed the correct one. The two of them hadn't talked since they left the warehouse. The intensity of the last 24 hours had left them exhausted in every way.

The door opened and they looked around the critical care unit. Tony spotted Ducky at the nurse's station and led the way. The medical examiner looked up and nodded. "You both look done in. I had some blankets and pillows brought into the waiting room."

"What about Tim?"

Ducky looked at Gibbs. "He's sedated while they continue evaluating his condition. It's unorthodox, but x-rays showed serious damage to his rib cage. His pressure is low, but they haven't detected any internal bleeding. It's a miracle, really."

"His hand, Ducky. I can't get the visual out of my head."

"Yes," Ducky took off his glasses and wiped them absently. "They are trying to save the hand. Several bad breaks."

Tony frowned. "He could lose it?"

"It's a possibility. He's probably going to need several surgeries to repair the damage. It's hard to know if he'll have any function at all."

"Damn!" Tony shook his head and looked away.

"Do we have the best people, Duck?"

He nodded. "It seems SecNav has a soft spot for our Timothy. She got a hold of the best Orthoped in the country, according to the surgeons here. She'll be here in a few hours."

Gibbs nodded. "Good."

"The two of you need rest."

"We want to see him."

Ducky shook his head. "He's very drowsy right now, and he needs complete calm. Shock is still very much an issue. I've been going in off and on to sit with him, but right now I should be the only one outside of other medical personnel. You'll have to trust me on this."

A nurse looked up from her notes. "There is a gentleman that went in about 15 minutes ago. He said he was authorized."

Ducky frowned. "I didn't authorize- who was it?"

She shrugged. "He must be still in there. I haven't seen him leave."

Ducky turned sharply and headed into McGee's room, Gibbs and DiNozzo on his heels. They walked in and saw a large man leaning over Tim talking softly.

Gibbs stepped up. "Agent Miltonoff, what are you doing?"

The grizzled face looked up. "Just checking in with my friend, Tim."

"No! Absolutely not. You will not speak to my agent without my permission."

Miltonoff looked at McGee. "Very possessive, this one. I hope that he and I don't do too much wrestling over this case."

"Boss wants what's best," McGee murmured softly.

"Right now, that means no visitors," Ducky said sharply.

Tim raised his head, his eyes bleary. "Marv saved my life."

"No one is forgetting that," Gibbs said tightly. "But there is a time and a place. You need quiet right now. You've got a lot of healing to do."

"Don't want to be alone," McGee said softly.

Gibbs looked at Ducky. "Let me sit with him for awhile. No stress."

"Boy has a story to tell," Miltonoff said as he got to his feet.

"And it'll have to wait until he's more coherent." Gibbs said. "We owe you a lot, Miltonoff, but right now, you're going to have to back off."

Marv smiled at Tim. "He's still sore I wouldn't let him stay in the warehouse with you and I. We'll talk later, buddy."

McGee nodded.

Tony shrugged. "I'll sit here. I can be quiet."

"You? Quiet? I've never seen it" Ducky patted his shoulder. "If I weren't so tired, I'd be doubled over in laughter. Come on, Anthony. You, I, and Agent Miltonoff will get some coffee."

Gibbs settled into the chair next to Tim's bed as the room cleared. He put a calloused hand over McGee's uninjured hand and squeezed gently. "So damn good to have you out of that warehouse. I think I held my breath for almost two hours there."

Tim nodded. "You found me fast. Darrell didn't count on that."

"You know we have that son of a bitch. I told you that, right?"

McGee closed his eyes. "Good. Winston?"

"Don't worry. We'll find him."

Gibbs thought McGee had drifted off again when he heard. "Boss, am I going to lose my hand?"

Gibbs frowned. "Nobody's talking like that, Tim."

"Hmm," McGee nodded. "You're a good liar, Boss. I can never spot it on you."

Something about that stung and Gibbs grimaced. "SecNav is sweet on you, Tim. She's flying in the best. I suspect you're going to have a surgery or two over the next few days."

"I see." McGee swallowed. "Diane and Emily are safe?"

"Yup. I told you before."

"I have to apologize-"

"No!" Gibbs squeezed his hand harder. "You did exactly the right thing."

McGee frowned. "You were expecting me to fail?"

"No! I expected you to use that call to warn her."

"You believe that, right?"

He nodded. "It's what I would've done."

McGee focused on his face. "There's never a tell with you. I always show the truth in my face. Can't help it, but you- you're like a statue."

"Nothing to find, Tim."

He closed his eyes again. "Feels like there should be."

"Torture does that, Tim. It exposes all your fears. Steals your confidence."

Tim breathed into the pillow. "Ducky said this whole thing started 36 hours ago. Seems impossible. Can a person really loose everything they are in such a short time?"

Gibbs stared at him as McGee's eyes closed and his breath deepened. "Tim? Tim?"

Gibbs sighed and he sat back in the chair. He waited a few minutes to see if Tim woke again, but his agent's grasp on consciousness was gone.

….

"Wake up, Jethro. Wake up!" Gibbs startled at the hand on his shoulder, eyes blinking open wide, as his hand instinctively reached for his gun.

Fornell stepped back. "Probably good that you can't carry your weapon in the hospital."

"What's going on?! Where's McGee? What time is it?"

"He went into surgery a few hours ago. Ducky made the executive decision to let you sleep."

Gibbs got to his feet, running his fingers through his hair. "Coffee."

Fornell reached behind him and grabbed a steaming cup from a table. Gibbs took it and sipped at it. The scowl on his face betrayed the quality of the java.

"Hey, I didn't have time to stop somewhere fancy."

Gibbs sniffed. "What do we know? What's new?"

"Diane and Emily want to see Tim."

He shook his head. "No way."

"Yeah. That's what I thought. Had to ask. She's determined and you know what that's like."

"He can't handle the emotions right now, and they can't handle what those bastards did to him. Incarcerate her if you have to. But that's not your big news. I can see the look on your face."

Fornell grimaced. "We made a deal to get the address on McGee. Darrell now has the right to an attorney. He made a phone call and a very high priced lawyer showed up a few hours ago. Darrell knows that we didn't get Winston and that McGee is alive. I was hoping we could've surprised him with those details."

"The deal was broken when he lied about not being at the warehouse."

"McGee hasn't made a formal statement yet. And once he gets a lawyer, we can't take him away."

Gibbs shrugged. "Maybe, we lose the edge on finding Winston, but Darrell is still going to have to take a plea. McGee can place him in the warehouse."

"Still, wish we could've had another run at him without the lawyer."

"Let's go check on my agent," Gibbs said as he headed out of the hospital room.

…

The waiting room looked a mess with blankets, pillows, and agents draped over all available furniture. Ducky was the only seated upright. He looked up at Gibbs and Fornell. "Good afternoon, Jethro."

"What's happening to McGee?"

"Lovely surgeon by the name of Zehringer has mapped out three surgeries over the next week. Very optimistic. She's in the midst of the first one right now."

"She can't do it in one surgery?"

Ducky sighed. "The bones in his hand are in pieces, Jethro. To say that this is an ambitious endeavor is an understatement."

"Yes, of course," he said. "I just want him to be well again."

"Patience!" Ducky scolded. "This will be no small journey as you well know."

Heads popped up from under blankets. Bishop stretched her arms. "Do we know something?"

"Time to get up and wash your face. We have work."

She nodded and nudged Abby whose pigtails were in wild disarray. "How is McGee?"

"Still in surgery, Abbs, but we need you in the lab processing evidence from the warehouse."

She looked at Ducky who nodded. "I'll keep good watch over our Timothy."

DiNozzo was scratching his head. "Where's Miltonoff? I was going to tag along with him."

"He's at my office coordinating the search for Winston. There are probably only three other agents in the bureau that know as much about militia groups as he does."

"What the hell? He was going to wait for me," Tony said as he tried to smooth out his wrinkled suit jacket.

"You needed sleep, Tony. We all did," Ducky said.

"Well, we did that. Everybody, go home, shower, eat, and meet me at the office." Gibbs started for the elevator.

"We should be here when he wakes," Abby mumbled.

Ducky took her by the shoulders. "When he is ready for visitors, you will be my first call."

"Then me," Tony announced as he grabbed his bag. "The probie will need me. No one understands that computer of a brain like I do."

"Me too, please," Bishop said to Ducky as she scrambled after the others. "I'm new but I care."

….

Miltonoff looked up when they walked in. "Tobias, your office is chaos from the very depths of hell."

Fornell snorted. "I've seen your space in Nashville. You are not one to talk."

"Okay. My space is impeccable. Can we be done with the chitter chatter now?" Gibbs growled.

Miltonoff sighed. "He's not warming up to me, Tobias."

"The two of you in one room together is like a testosterone tornado. Both of you just need to get over it." Fornell jerked his thumb at Miltonoff. "Get out of my chair already."

Miltonoff moved his considerable bulk over to an armchair and scowled. "You pull this one out of an elementary school?"

Fornell pushed his office chair at him and perched on the edge of his desk. "Game plan."

Gibbs ignored the chair left to him. "Darrell is sewn up. McGee's alive. We called his bluff. Game over. Winston is our concern now."

Miltonoff shook his head. "I've been studying the Arnolds for a good long time. They don't acknowledge the rule books we use. These fellers have been living off the grid for years. They are real heroes to the militia movement. They come in, do a job, and move on. No address. A different burn phone every month."

"I get it. Winston will be hard to find."

"I think it's a little more complicated than that, Gibbs. Darrell has him some high priced counsel. Hiram Baker. He's out of Michigan. He's had a 2nd amendment focus and militia type clientele for a long time. A real good track record too."

"Marv, we have a solid case," Fornell said.

"If it's so solid, why did they send down Hiram? And how the hell did he know that McGee was alive? Your leak is still a problem."

"And here we are talking about it in the place where the leak originated," said Gibbs.

Fornell shook his head. "They swept everything last night. No bugs. And as for a mole, information is being shared with only senior agents- people I've known for a decade or more."

"Are we back to the theory it's in my house?" Gibbs glared.

"Vance starting sweeping your floor early today. We have to check everything."

Miltonoff leaned toward Gibbs. "I'm worried about McGee."

"He'll recover."

"I'm worried this isn't over for him."

Gibbs narrowed his eyes. "What?"

"I don't think we're going to have to look for Winston. I think he's going to find us."

"McGee said he was lost without his brother. He was sloppy. He left the detonator behind."

"Yup. That's our Winston. He listens to his brothers. He's got Chuck's execution coming in a few weeks, and then there's Darrell captured. He's really feeling it right now. He's got to be waiting for orders."

"From who?"

"Darrell."

"He's locked up tight, Miltonoff."

"And he's got a shady ass militia lawyer. Hiram will pass on what he feels like, and couch it in client privilege. He's done it before."

"What's Darrell's message to Winston?"

Miltonoff sighed. "Darrell is all about Darrell. He likes acting Robin Hood to the anti-government crowd, but his endgame has always been about his glory and his glory alone. He had a chance to get out of this, but Winston screwed that up. My guess is that his message to Winston right now is 'fix it'."

Gibbs narrowed his eyes. "You know a lot for a guy who's had 7 years to put his hands on this perps and had no luck."

"Ain't that the truth," Miltonoff snorted. "Tell me something I don't know."

There was silence for a moment as they all contemplated Miltonoff's admission and then Gibbs nodded. "My team has a remarkable skill set. You got the instincts, munitions expertise, and a history with the Arnolds. We're going to work together just fine."

"Well hell, shit, and damn, and here I was wondering how many more of your team I was going to have to save to get a nice word out of you."

"Don't take it personal, Marv. Jethro here isn't an easy man to know."

Gibbs' phone sounded and he pulled it out. "DiNozzo." He put it to his ear and listened. The granite face darkened. "Be there in 30."

"What's up?" Fornell studied him.

"The leak is with me. Two bugs in my bullpen. I gotta go." Gibbs grabbed his coat and headed out. Fornell leapt off his desk and followed.

…..

Tony stood against the wall, arms folded, and watched technicians go through their desks inch by inch. Bishop stood next to him. He could feel her twitchiness. She wanted to ask questions, brainstorm ideas, but he was hard as steel and rebuffed all attempts at dialogue. It was only when Gibbs got off the elevator and headed toward them that he spoke. He pointed at Gibbs' desk. "Traitors. One found underneath your desk in the front. One buried in the light above your desk. In our house, this happened. They're in our house."

It was as if he was spitting words, and Gibbs barely acknowledged him. He gave a barely perceptible nod, and DiNozzo followed him and Fornell up the stairs. Bishop started to follow, but Tony turned, shaking his head sharply.

Gibbs pushed straight into Vance's office. Vance was standing at the window and turned. "I've been waiting for you."

"What do we know?"

"Miss Scuito has the bugs. They are state of the art. Sophisticated audio. Probably picked up every conversation you had. Trying to figure out if there were other ways we were compromised. Scuito says that they are short term devices. Couldn't have been there for more than a few weeks. We're going to do a review of cases you might have discussed-"

"I know when it happened," Tony interrupted. "It was about a week ago. Tim was making faces after a phone call. You know how he is. I made him talk. I always do. Never leave well enough alone. He said he was worried that Fornell was going to take his helping Emily out the wrong way. Seems Diane kept it from you for a bit. Tim, of course, thought you were going to stomp him for helping her with algebra. We talked about it back and forth maybe five minutes. It was their way in. I'm sure I mentioned his name. I'm always saying McGee this, McGee that."

Gibbs looked at Fornell. "They thought the best way to you was through me?"

"You and I know that this was about opportunity. They couldn't find a way into my building, but they could find their way into yours. It happens."

Vance slapped his desk. "That's not good enough! We have a rat in my house and I want it found!"

"Cameras?"

"Nothing is a direct angle on your desk, but we've pulled everything from the last month that highlights the bullpen. I have a team in a room right now working on it. They're going to be drinking coffee and sleeping on cots until they find something."

"Bishop has been with you less than six months," Fornell observed.

"No," said Gibbs. "It's not her."

"Still, I want her on the outside for right now," Vance said. "She's too new and emotions are going to get raw around something like this. People are going to point fingers."

Gibbs nodded. "She's tough enough, but you're right. Let's put her somewhere she can look over the cases we've had in the bullpen the last month. We can have her analyze threat, liability, whatever."

Fornell looked at each of them. "How are you feeling about McGee's protection? Marv raised some possible concerns. You feel good about his detail?"

Vance shook his head and looked away.

"It's a tough question. I know. I'm not trying to offend. I'm asking because I'm offering to use bureau agents for his detail."

"Not going to happen."

"Jethro, you have a mole."

Gibbs pointed a finger. "And we don't know how safe your house is either. Arnold's lawyer did not find out that McGee was alive from those bugs. We haven't been in the bullpen since we found him. You and I both know they've been trying to get a foot in your house a lot longer than here. I don't want to risk it."

Tony looked from one to the other. "Miltonoff mentioned concerns about McGee's protection. What does that mean?"

Gibbs turned. "It means that I need you to get over to that hospital and personally take over McGee's protection detail. Miltonoff believes that Winston will try and fix his mistake."

…

Tony couldn't sit still. He bounced from one end to the room, careful to give ample space to the hand they had trussed up in a wire contraption. The wound wasn't closed like Tony expected after a surgery. There was some complex explanation having to do with the next surgery being in a couple of days. Tony had scowled at the nurse the whole time she spoke about it while McGee seemed to take the whole thing in stride. Morphine did that for a person.

McGee watched him pace. "Tony, please sit down."

"What if I put a towel over it?"

"It's elevated. I can't see anything."

"I can."

"Then sit down."

Tony plopped down in the chair. "It's starting to hurt, isn't it? We can get a nurse in here."

McGee shook his head. "You said Gibbs and Fornell are coming. They need me sharp. Time to give a statement."

Tony studied his hands.

McGee watched him. "You don't have to stay."

"Yeah, I do."

"Winston isn't coming for me. He's hiding under a bed somewhere. You should be out looking for him."

"18 hours with him and you know everything you need to know?"

"It was that kind of day, Tony. I can tell you the look on Darrell's face right now. I can tell you that Winston is sitting somewhere lost without his brother, and I can tell you that I am not ever going to be the same."

"What does that mean?"

He shook his head.

"It's going to get better, Tim."

"I begged, Tony. I pleaded. I cried. I would've given them Diane and Emily if they'd played me right. Most men live their whole lives and never know the truth of that. I know that truth now."

"Don't. Nobody lives through something like that, and comes out right. It's impossible. You need some time, perspective. You can tell yourself whatever you want, but the truth is that you didn't give in and they are alive because of it."

He swallowed. "I don't want my gun back or my badge. I'm an agent anymore."

Tony stood. "That's enough. The pain in your hand must be agony. I'm going to get a nurse."

McGee's chin trembled and he looked away.

Tony got out the door and leaned against it, closing his eyes.

"DiNozzo."

He turned and saw Gibbs and Fornell coming his way.

"How's McGee?"

"Still back in that warehouse, Boss."

"We're going to move him. U.S. Marshals are on their way."

"What!? His detail is mine!"

"Tony, we just don't know what we're dealing with yet. We got bugs, a fugitive on the loose, Darrell lawyered up, and a pending execution. Neither Fornell and I can control who talks to whom. Too many variables."

"No! He is messed up! His hand is all jacked up! We do not send him away!"

Gibbs walked into him. "Tony, this is not a discussion. It's going to happen."

"You didn't hear him in there. He's not right in the head."

"I know that but right now, we have to focus on safety. I've talked to the surgeon. He's getting transported somewhere safe. She'll finish the surgeries. He'll recover, and in the meantime, we are going to put our houses in order."

"You can't send him alone."

"I can't spare you, Tony."

"This isn't right."

Gibbs shook his head as he pushed past him into the room. "None of it is."


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: It's been awhile. The asthma continues as does a historically bad winter. The load at work is huge. All of this has impacted the energy I have for writing, but I am trying to stick with it. Finishing stories is important. There is only one NCIS story I haven't finished. It's a big story and I understand if it's hard to keep up with much space between chapters. Still, I appreciate those of you who are willing to try. Sheila

Chapter 5

Tony looked up from the files. "More?"

Ellie shrugged as she put another pile on the table. "We still have 80 people on staff who could've planted those bugs."

"I got to piss off that many people in interrogation to find the mole? I've already raked 15 people over the coals over this. I had Jensen from HR in tears half the morning. Everyone in this agency are going to hate me by the time this is over."

"I can help."

He gave her a look. "No, you can't. I can't let you get that close to this."

She leaned against the doorway. "I haven't been here long enough. I should be a suspect too."

"Yeah, well Gibbs has a gut. I do too. You didn't do it."

"Others are going to be suspicious. Interrogating me like the rest of these folks is probably going to help that."

"How about we just focus on finding the real mole, Bishop? Stay with Abby. Work backgrounds on our suspects."

"You mean, co-workers."

"Shut up, Bishop," He muttered.

She chewed her lip. "You miss him."

"It's only been a week. We find the mole and then we'll get him back."

"You're edgy without him."

"I'm edgy because I have to treat all of my co-workers like suspects."

He balances you, doesn't he? Evens you out."

Tony stopped going through files and looked up. "He and I have been through a lot…It's what happens when you work together a long time."

"You're such different, people, you know, but you accept that in one another. It's been interesting to watch."

"Stop analyzing, Ellie."

"Okay."

"Where's Gibbs?"

"In Vance's office with the U.S. Attorney, Fornell, and Miltonoff."

Tony groaned. "I'm glad I'm missing that."

For a moment, neither said anything. Then Tony looked around the room until he spotted Dorneget. "Get over here, Dorneget! Take this file, find my next victim, and put them in interrogation. I'll be there in 5."

…

She opened the can of Diet Coke in front of her and took a long drink as if she'd been denied liquids for days. The fact that she was sitting across the table from an agitated LeRoy Jethro Gibbs seemed to neither register nor matter to her. Fornell watched in fascination as she focused on the drink in front of her as it she was alone in the room with it.

"Ms. Mullins, are you listening?" Vance barked like a stern schoolmaster.

She was in her early fifties, but tried to deny it all with bottle blonde hair and makeup that was too harsh. Skinny had begun to look boney on her, but she wore a low cut blouse as if it was alluring. "I've heard everything you gentlemen have said," she drawled with a hint of the Appalachians still evident in her speech.

"Special Agent McGee is an NCIS agent, and it is vital that we have access to him on an ongoing basis."

"He's in Witness Protection, Director Vance. In Witness Protection, we do not give outside entities access to our witnesses."

"We are not an outside entity. We are his employer," Vance persisted.

She took another long swig off her soda. "There are no exceptions."

Gibbs leaned in. "He's my agent and I want to speak to him."

She looked at him. "He was your agent. When you signed him over to the U.S. Marshals, he became the responsibility of the U.S. Attorney. He is now my material witness against the Arnolds. For the time behing, he is not your agent."

"Now Susie," Marv Miltonoff said, shaking his head. "You're playing hardball with these folks and I get where you're coming from, but McGee is recovering from a big trauma, and talking to people like his boss is going to help that."

"You can be assured that McGee is somewhere safe and that he is being attended to by trained professionals."

"Susie, that just ain't good enough."

She sighed. "I'm perplexed by all this. You haven't even found your own mole, and yet, you want to compromise the safety of your agent by exposing him."

"Allowing me to talk to McGee compromises nothing. We're going to find our mole. But I need to see my man!" Gibbs said.

She shook her head. "I realize that you think you're a safe guy, but that's not enough for me. I don't know that you're a safe guy. I don't know you at all. I only know that you are part of an organization that almost got my witness killed. It is my job to protect McGee."

Gibbs slapped the table and got up, walking to the other end of the room. Susan Mullins didn't even blink. She downed the rest of her drink and sat back.

"Susie, we still have to re-interview him," Miltonoff said.

She nodded. "Right. I'm going to do that in a couple of days."

"I go too," Gibbs said.

"Oh I don't think so," she said casually. "Is there anything else, gentlemen? I have meetings."

Gibbs looked away.

"Good. I appreciate your understanding." She grabbed her bag and coat, leaving the Coke can at the center of the table. "Oh, and can someone direct me to the nearest soft drink machine."

…..

The pain took his breath when he tried to shift his body even though he was taking the prescribed dose of Vicodin. The doctor noted the grimace on his face. "I still think we should change your prescription to Demerol."

He shook his head sharply. "I had that once. Couldn't concentrate."

She turned and looked at the two Marshals. "Doesn't seem like you really need to concentrate right now. These gentlemen can do all your thinking for you. You just need to rest."

"No," he said through gritted teeth.

She turned to the two guys in nylon jackets. "Can the two of you excuse us?"

The one looked to the other and said. "Sorry, we can't allow that, Ma'am."

"Okay." She said as she sat on the edge of the bed. "Tim, I did three very delicate surgeries, and I gotta tell you that those surgeries, in my world, are sort of works of art. I got the pictures to prove it. And I don't need you messing that up."

He gave her an empty stare.

"Yeah," she sighed. "I didn't think that would work. How about this- you are a pretty terrific guy who went through something horrific and you need to heal."

He looked away.

"Not much better, huh. Oftentimes, surgeons are surgeons because we have terrible people skills. The truth is that you need to rest in order to heal. You're having nightmares. You're in significant pain. You're restless. I have been assured by the Marshals here that your only job right now is to heal. I have been assured that they will protect you. Does that help?"

His face didn't move.

She sighed. "Can you say something to the nice doctor who saved your hand?"

He closed his eyes. "Thank you."

"Are you talking to the therapist?"

He grimaced and shook his head.

"Okay, I am way out of my depths here so let me just focus on where I have expertise. Your hand was a pile of bones a week and a half ago. I have put those bones back together, but it's still all very delicate. They need time to properly mend. You need to keep that hand as still as possible. I suspect it is very painful right now. Take your medication. Rest. Let everyone else do the worrying for you."

"Okay," he said softly.

"You're humoring me, right?"

"Yes."

"Okay, I've done what I can do. I've got to get back to my practice. This is a very weird situation, you know. They actually have to blindfold me until I am on a private government jet. I got stories for days for the next Orthopedic conference."

He looked at her silently.

"That was supposed to make you laugh. Probably was insensitive, right?" She sighed deeply. "I've been meaning to take this beside manner workshop. Haven't found the time. I guess I better make the time, huh?"

His eyes softened. "It's not you. You did fine."

"Thanks." She smiled. "We'll skype next week. You'll start physical therapy in a month when your bones have strengthened."

She got up and turned to the Marshals. "Take good care of him. The more that hand stays mobile, the better."

"Yes, Ma'am."

She left the room and one of the Marshals approached. "Now, let's do what she says, Tim. No getting up and pacing. You take medication when we give it. We got movies and cable. You can watch anything you want."

"I want a computer."

"Sorry, Son. That's not on the menu. Word is that you're dangerous when it comes to technology. Can't risk it."

"Then let me talk to my boss."

The large man shook his head slowly. "Also, not possible. We got orders."

McGee said nothing.

"Hey now, no reason we can't be friends. No one is trying to hurt you here. What say we watch those Star Wars movies you like so much?"

McGee shook his head and rolled away from him.

…

Bishop peered her head into interrogation. "I know I'm not supposed to interrupt."

Tony glared at her while the man across from him sat nervously tapping the table with his fingers, his cheeks flushed. "Cardinal rule. People have gone to prison for less."

"Jill Marks from the Fraud Unit wants to talk to you."

"She can wait," he said firmly.

Ellie shook her head. "No, I don't think she can."

Tony frowned at her for a moment and then he turned to the man across from him. "Clark, take five."

The man all but scrambled out of his chair and brushed past Bishop. Ellie looked out the door and gestured for a woman. She came in, red eyed and nervous. Tony remembered her as the long, cool blonde he ran into in the elevator every couple of months. He'd chatted with her before, but she'd never responded to his charms.

Today, she dropped into the chair across from him as if she'd been running for hours.

Tony studied her. "Jill? You have something to say."

She stared down at the table and sniffed loudly. "I can't stand it anymore. It's unfair to everyone- these interrogations."

"Well, we have a mole, Jill."

"I know." She refused to look at him.

"Looks like you have something to tell me."

"I can't find a way to do this without losing everything."

Tony nodded. "I see. Try doing the right thing. It might go better than you think."

She rubbed at her face and looked up. "I did it."

"Did what?"

"Put bugs under Gibbs' desk and in the light."

"And why would you do that?"

She swallowed, her face teary. "I was paid "$35,000."

"So, that's what it costs to betray your country."

She screwed up her face. "I didn't betray my country."

He pounded the table. "NCIS is the United States! We serve Navy personnel. You betrayed us!"

She collapsed into sobs. He watched her for a few minutes, and then beckoned to the mirror. A few seconds later, Ellie opened the door. Tony turned his head. "Turn her life upside down. Search warrants for her home, car, and finances. Now!"

He turned back to the crying woman. "It means something that you came to me rather than make me interrogate 40 more people. Now, you need to stop crying and tell me everything."

The sobs continued.

"Hey! Look at me!"

She raised her head, hiccupping her breath.

"Take it from the beginning, Jill. We have a lot to talk about."

She nodded and took a deep, shaky breath.

…

Gibbs was staining a table when he heard footsteps on the stairs. They were heavier than Fornell's and slower than Tony's. He frowned and put the brush down. Bowed legs appeared and then the large body of Marv Miltonoff carrying a paper bag and a bottle. Miltonoff grunted as he hit the bottom step. "I know I'm not your favorite person, Gibbs, but I come bearing gifts."

Gibbs started to gesture toward the stool, and then rethought it, and pulled out a bench. "Take a load off, Miltonoff."

"Be much simpler if you called me Marv."

Gibbs cleared a space on his table. "What do you got?"

Marv smiled. "BBQ. Little hole in the wall. Doesn't even have a sign. I didn't get ribs. Too much mess, but they have chicken wings that taste like heaven. Also got some collareds."

Gibbs gestured at the bottle in his hand. "That soda pop?"

"Raw Kentucky bourbon. You can drink it or peel paint with it."

Gibbs blew the dust out of a couple of mugs, and handed them to him. Miltonoff poured and Gibbs took a sip. He winced. "Damn! There is no confusion about what this is."

"Too much?"

He shook his head slowly. "No way. This is just perfect. I like my bourbon with a bite."

Miltonoff opened up the Styrofoam container of wing and the container of collared greens. He stuck two forks in the greens and put a stack of napkins in front of each of them. "So, tell me about your mole."

Gibbs studied him for a moment before picking up a wing. "She was paid "35,000 to bug my desk. She says she approached by someone who said he was NSA. She claims he told her it was a matter of national security. Says she signed a contract, and that the pay was for her work."

Miltonoff frowned. "Doesn't sound NSA to me."

"Nope. I don't think so either. Vance has been burning up the phone lines, but no one over there will claim it. My agent, Bishop, was NSA, and she has called all her contacts."

"Your mole naïve or slippery?"

Gibbs sighed. "DiNozzo spent the day with her. Definitely greedy. Poor judgment. But she doesn't seem like a mastermind. Doesn't matter though. She's facing charges. You think she might have connections to militia? We're digging deep into her history."

"Hard to say," Marv said, wiping grease off his fingers. "I'll make some calls."

"You could've gotten all this from a simple phone call. To what do I owe the pleasure?"

Miltonoff bit into another wing. "Susie is sending me to interview McGee tomorrow."

"I want to go."

He shook his head. "Marshals are only authorized to take me. Susie isn't going at all. That's a little weird considering the circumstances."

Gibbs took a long draw of the bourbon. "What are you talking about?"

Marv wiped his mouth and sat back. "I'd like to tell you a story, Gibbs."

"I'm listening." Gibbs poured another two fingers of the fiery liquor.

"I was Army. Munitions. Was sent to 'Nam when I was eighteen. It was the year we pulled out. I worked landmines. Had a feel for it that was a little…different. I get real calm under pressure. No sweating. No fear. No panic. I get calm, and in ordinance work that's everything. I gained a reputation. After 'Nam, they sent me wherever there were bombs to diffuse. I went to Africa. Cambodia. Bosnia. By the time I was 30, I was teaching ordinance out of Fort Bragg. Then I got called in by the FBI to help with a case where abortion clinics were being bombed in different states. I liked the investigative work. Got a referral to the academy and I went. Met Susie Mullins there actually. She was young and ambitious and ready to set the world on fire. Known her going on 25 years now."

Gibbs watched him closely but said nothing.

"They stuck us both in the Nashville office. I was happy as a pig in shit. My folks lived only two hours away. Susie treated it like it was a punishment. She only lasted two years, pushing to get to D.C. Finally, she got a chance."

"I didn't know she was bureau."

"She was. Knowing Susie, she was probably planning on being Director. She was there, maybe, 10 years. Got her law degree. Tried to get an assistant directorship. Always seemed to elude her. Then the U.S. Attorney opportunity opened up and she took it."

"This about Susie Mullins?"

"No, this is about me. I was a good agent. Kept current on bomb making and bomb breaking. Did seminars. Kept up with all the kids. Got interested in the militia about 10-12 years ago. They like bombs. They're mostly country. Means we all have a whole lot in common. Did great those first years. Made arrests. Broke up rings. Heard about the Arnolds and pursued 'em hard. Met Tobias on the case where we caught up with Chuck. Susie prosecuted. Put him in a death cell. Good day's work. Then I went after the rest. Things haven't gone right since."

"I don't understand."

"Me neither. I didn't figure it was going to be all that hard to round up Darrell and Winston. Had 'em pinpointed four times. And four times, we raided and came up with nothing. My intel was good. I set up a couple of fellers undercover. Each time, they got made, and for the life of me, I can't figure out how. For the last six years, I've been the guy who can't get it right."

Gibbs watched him carefully. "That's a pretty long streak."

"Yup. I think so too. Started to notice a pattern. Any time I sent a report on the Arnolds to D.C, it seemed like things would go wrong. Blamed myself for a good long while. Thought I was sloppy." He shook his head and reached for the bourbon. "About two years ago, I tested it. Sent out a false report. Said that I had a new informant at this roadhouse that militia frequent. Put a feller in there that I didn't tell anyone about. All he was supposed to do was sit, drink, and listen. He reported back to me that they were talking snitch two days after the report got sent. Militia cleared out of there. Someone in D.C. was dirty."

"You talk to Tobias?"

"Tried. He's a good feller, but he's a company man. Couldn't wrap his head around it. He was sure the leak was in the Nashville office. I didn't know what to think. After that, I went underground. Focused on ordinance workshops but I stopped talking. I stopped talking to anyone about the Arnolds. Pissed Susie off. She's been wanting all the brothers. Took some work home. Focused on the Arnolds out of my basement."

"Did you learn anything?"

"They are real lucky fellers. Always one step ahead. Wasn't like that before we got Chuck. I knew that they were headed to D.C. to cause trouble for Tobias. Warned him personally. Didn't imagine they'd try to go through you. Certainly never thought they would grab your agent."

"So, you're here to apologize for McGee?"

"No, I'm here because I haven't rested well in two years. My gut is all messed up. I don't think your mole is all that significant. I think that's to throw us off the real scent. I think the real mole is in the bureau. I think the mole wouldn't give 'em Tobias. Too risky. I think the Arnolds had to go rogue. Thought they could get to him through you."

"Okay."

Miltonoff let out a deep breath. "6 months ago, a team came from D.C. to go through the files in my office. They were particularly interested in the Arnold files. They talked to the agents. Later, folks told me that most of the questions were about me. I reckon the only mole they are considering is me."

"You're telling me you're a mole, Marv."

Miltonoff gave him a long look and shook his head. "I'm telling you that someone with some real power is."

"Who?"

Miltonoff stared into his bourbon for a long time. "I don't know. I don't know anything for sure, but I've spent the last two years sitting in my basement staring at a wall full of evidence about the Arnolds and my gut ain't right. I did not screw up that many opportunities to grab those fellers."

"And what's your gut like now?"

"A couple of things don't feel right."

"Such as?"

Marv sighed and used the table to steady himself as he got to his feet. "Let me think on it some. Not ready to point fingers. Give me a couple of days to make sense of it."

"You think talking to McGee might help?"

He nodded. "It might. I'll tell the boy you're thinking about him. I'll make sure he knows that you're wearing down ol' Susie about letting you see him."

Gibbs stood. "Tell him I know how strong he is. Tell him that's how I know he's going to be okay. Tell him I'd be there if I could."

He nodded. "I'll tell him."

"Seems odd that Mullins isn't going."

Miltonoff frowned. "I thought so too. But knowing Susie, I'm sure she has her reasons. She always has a grand plan."

"Since we've plugged the hole at NCIS, there's no reason we can't bring McGee back here for protection."

Marv grinned. "And you expect her to be reasonable about that."

"She damn well better be," Gibbs said, downing the last of the bourbon in his glass.

"Yeah, good luck with that, Gibbs."

…..

"Hey fellers, name is Miltonoff." Marv extended a hand to the Marshals. "How's Tim?"

"Napping in the next room," said one that introduced himself as Simpson.

The other one, a large man named Locke, said. "He's a sullen cuss. Not very cooperative."

"Well, boys, he's had a rough time. I reckon he doesn't want to be here. Can't blame him really."

Simpson folded his arms. "Keeps talking about wanting to see his boss. I've never had a supervisor in my entire life that I wanted to spend more than two minutes with, and this kid can't shut up about talking to him."

"We asked if he had new information, but he claims that he just wants to talk to his boss."

"Weird." Simpson shook his head.

"Not so much if you knew his team. They're tight."

"Whatever. I'm going to be glad when this detail is over."

"Listen, the kid needs more pain medication. I gotta go to the drugstore. Can you help Locke carry the detail until I get back?"

Marv looked at Simpson. "Sure."

"You're packing, right?" Locke studied him.

"No," Miltonoff said slowly. "I thought that was against policy in Witness Protection."

"It's not a problem, Simpson," Locke said, chuckling. "The kid can protect himself with his sparkling personality."

"Alright, I'll be back in an hour or so," Simpson said shutting the front door behind him.

"Marv?"

Miltonoff turned and saw Tim at the door of the bedroom, looking slightly disoriented. "Hey Tim!"

"Is Gibbs here?" Tim looked around the room, his hair disheveled.

"No. Just me. The Gunny sends his best. He's fighting to get you back real back, but he knows you can handle yourself in the meantime."

Tim's bandaged hand was tied against his body and he absently anchored it with his good hand. "Take me hom, Marv. I'll be safe. Tony and Gibbs will make sure."

Marv nodded. "Not my call, son."

"Why are you here then?"

"Gotta get you ready. We have a hearing coming up with Darrell in a week. We're gonna go over some things."

McGee nodded. "I gotta use the john."

"Need help?"

McGee gave him a withering glance and shuffled down the hall.

…

McGee stared at the pale face in the mirror. Hair stuck up on the back of his head, but he made no move to comb it down. Using the toilet had been time consuming and frustrating. Accepting help would've sped things up, but the thought of needing that kind of help mortified him. He turned on the faucet, and used his good hand to splash water on his face. He blinked through the wetness and tried to focus. The pain meds left him too foggy, but the alternative was mind-numbing pain.

He picked up a washcloth and scrubbed at his face. Then he draped it over the faucet and took a deep breath. He turned to open the door when he heard sounds that stole his breath.

Pop. Pop. Pop.

He locked the door and backed up to the shower, looking around the room wildly. He'd heard enough gunshots in his career to have no doubts about those sounds. There was nothing even vaguely usable as a weapon. He reached up to wrestle with the shower rod but it was firmly drilled into the wall. He backed up against the wall, breathing hard. He tried to angle himself in a way that the shooter might not expect.

Then he waited for the shots. For a moment, it was quiet, and then a huge weight landed against the door and he heard the wood splinter. McGee was prepared to launch himself at the attacker, and was surprised to find Miltonoff standing there, blood soaking through the fabric at his shoulder and pointing a gun straight at him.

…

TBC


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: My life is way too chaotic right now. Over the next 7 days, I only have half a day to myself. This story is getting updated slowly- not a great way to maintain momentum, but I hate to leave things unfinished. Writing is my solace, and whenever that's threatened, I get really anxious. Thank you to anyone who is still reading and reviewing. Sheila

The Fear Game

Chapter 6

Ellie knelt down and stared at the hole neatly drilled into the Marshal's forehead. It wasn't even bloody. Death had been instantaneous. The man's dead eyes stared back at her and she shuddered. She stood and looked at Tony. "It doesn't make sense. If it was all about taking out McGee, then where is his body?"

Tony blinked as if in a fog. "They were keeping him only 30 miles away from NCIS."

She shrugged. "Sure, that makes sense. They wanted him close by for court proceedings."

Tony turned and walked away. He went over and looked at the blood spatter on the couch across the room from the Marshal- there had been more than one victim. He shook his head and tried to organize his thoughts. The Marshal who survived was outside smoking cigarettes like they were shots of whiskey lined up at a bar. Tony knew he needed a more thorough interview before his supervisor arrived and he got too focused on covering his ass. The crime scene needed careful attention and Ellie was still too new to understand the nuances of that. Balboa's team was on their way and would take over that aspect. Ducky and Jimmy had been diverted from another crime scene were expected in minutes.

And there was the issue of Gibbs. He'd been standing in the corner staring at the room for going on 20 minutes. Tony knew he was trying to make sense of why an FBI agent like Miltonoff would walk into a safehouse, kill a marshal, and then disappear with McGee. And he was trying to imagine if any other scenario was even possible. Tony wanted to walk over and confer, but it would be a useless exercise. The boss was clearly not ready to communicate.

Tony heard a car door slam and looked out to find Fornell and U.S. Attorney Susan Mullins hurrying up the drive. Tony immediately knew what was priority. He headed outside and stood in front of the door.

"Out of the way Agent," Mullins said as they approached.

"Crime scene," he said simply.

"What do we know, Tony?" Fornell asked.

Tony glared at him. "We know that your people took out a U.S. Marshal and disappeared McGee."

Nonsense!" She retorted.

Fornell merely looked weary. "Doesn't make sense."

"It better make sense, Fornell! He's your guy. Figure it out! Why did he take McGee?! There's blood indicating a second victim. Is that McGee? If he wanted him dead, why didn't he leave him?! These are important questions, Fornell!"

"Get out of the way, Agent!" Mullins demanded.

"Listen lady," Tony growled. "Crime scene folks and the M.E. have first dibs. Last thing we need is some civilian tramping around all over the evidence."

"I am not a civilian!"

"Susie," Fornell said quietly. "Stand down."

"This is my case, Tobias!"

Fornell turned his head sharply toward her. "This belongs to all of us."

"Tobias," Gibbs said. He'd appeared in the doorway. "Let's take a walk."

Fornell gave an imperceptible nod. Susan Mullins started to follow them, but Gibbs turned, his eyes steely. "You're not invited."

"I will not be kept out of this." Shades of red blotched her face.

"There is no place for you at a crime scene. DiNozzo here isn't going to let you in. Best idea is for you to go back to your office and wait for news."

"Gibbs!" She looked ready to stamp her feet, but he ignored her and steered Fornell down the drive.

They walked for a few moments in silence, and then Fornell sighed. "What's it like in there?"

"Marshal with a single bullet in his head. Blood on the couch across the room. Bathroom door kicked in."

"Jethro, it doesn't sound like we can narrow that down to one scenario."

"Okay, let's play that out. Let's say Miltonoff was in there with the Marshal while the other Marshal was out doing errands. One of them was in the bathroom. Someone breaks in. Then what?"

"The only one who could've in the bathroom was McGee. He's the the weakest in his condition. The Marshal would've fired on him. Miltonoff wouldn't have been carrying, but he also isn't the kind of man who would hide."

"Okay, Tobias, I agree on that point."

Fornell took a breath. "He shoots the Marshal first. Biggest threat. Wounds or kills Marv. Then he kicks in the door and he has McGee."

Gibbs nodded. "Works so far, but then we'd be coming on a crime scene with three dead bodies. I can't think of a single reason they would take Miltonoff or McGee, dead or alive."

"Sending a message. Retribution for Darrell and Chuck."

Gibbs stopped and glared. "Really! They've already tortured him near to death. No way that appetite hasn't been satisfied."

"Maybe Marv? He's been a thorn in their side for a long time."

"Come on now, Tobias. There are too many dead ends with this. How did one man get a wounded Miltonoff and McGee out of the house? How did they find the house? Did Miltonoff tip 'em off? Did they trail the U.S. Marshals? Those guys are pretty well trained at shaking a tail. Maybe a gang of men broke in that little condo they were using as a safehouse. Of course, that might be a little unlikely. There isn't a single piece of furniture out of place. Bet ya' we don't find any evidence there from anyone other than Miltonoff, McGee, and the Marshal in there."

Fornell dropped his head and sighed. "There were rumblings about Miltonoff. His raids kept failing, and in the last two years, it looked like he was just going through the motions. He made some claims about someone in the D.C. office tipping off the Arnolds. The brass didn't buy it. They pointed a probe at him about a year ago."

"You didn't think I should know that?"

"Not for one minute did I really believe that Marv was dirty. I know what it's like to falsely accused as you know." Fornell studied him. "I expected more reaction out of you. You don't seem all that surprised about this bit of news."

"Miltonoff showed up at the house a few nights ago. Told me the whole story from his perspective."

Fornell blinked. "Why?"

"I don't know. I thought he was telling me that there was someone in the bureau that couldn't be trusted. Maybe it was a smoke screen."

"He didn't indicate who?"

"Nope."

"You think he was just trying to steer you away from being suspicious of him."

"Tobias, he killed a Marshal and took my agent. There's not another scenario that makes sense. What does he want with McGee?"

"Honest to God, Jethro, I haven't the faintest clue."

….

When they walked back to the house, they found Susan Mullins sitting in a lawn chair on the grass with a garish umbrella tied to the back of it, her arms tightly crossed. Someone found a TV tray in the garage, and an enormous pizza box was perched on it. There was a box of Little Debbie snack cakes on top. On the ground next to it was a 12 pack of cheap beer. She glared at them as they approached. "Your agent made some phone calls. Says he wants me to be comfortable and out of the way. He thinks this is funny."

….

Miltonoff groaned as he turned the steering wheel. "Bastard got me in the damn shoulder. Just hope to hell its through and through. Didn't have time to look. Last thing I need."

McGee said nothing in the passenger seat. His left arm was crossed over his chest and handcuffed to the passenger door. His bad wrist was nestled uncomfortably against the door. Miltonoff fashioned a blindfold after tearing apart a sheet. Pain shot up his right arm continually without pain meds, but he grit his teeth and offered no sign of it.

Marv glanced over. "Sorry, I had to truss you up like this. I mean you no harm, Tim. Hell, I saved your life just a couple of weeks ago."

"You killed a Marshal, Marv, and you've kidnapped me. How is that not harmful?"

"I killed him because he was going to kill me and you, and I've handcuffed you because I knew that you were going to be a bit spooked by all this."

"You didn't have a gun."

"Of course I did," Marv snorted. "Just didn't tell the goon squad."

"I was in the bathroom three minutes tops before I heard the gunshots and then you were breaking in the door. What happened, Marv?"

"Hard to explain. It's complicated."

McGee turned his covered eyes in Marv's direction. "Where are you taking me?"

"I grabbed a handful of pill bottles on the way out. I hope to hell there's enough pain meds for you. You're looking a little peaked."

McGee shook his head. "Doesn't matter what you grabbed if you're handing me over to Winston Arnold or his people."

Miltonoff shook his head sharply. "No way! Not going to happen. This is what I'm trying to prevent."

He sighed. "I'm confused, Marv. You're not making any sense."

Miltonoff patted his good shoulder. "I'm here to protect you. We'll worry about the whys when I find a safe place for this truck."

McGee swallowed. "What about Gibbs? He cares. He wants me safe."

Marv nodded. "Yup. He's a good man. He wants what's best for you."

"Let me call him. I'll tell him you're just protecting me. He'll know how to help."

"Yeah, I imagine we'll have to do that, Tim. The question is when and how to do it. See, he doesn't believe I'm trying to help. He's got to be thinking I'm a real bad guy about now. We contact him now, and he's going to descend on us like the Marines on Iwo Jima."

"But he'll protect both of us, Marv, and he'll listen. I know he will. He's got good instincts."

"Sorry, son, it's not time to bring him in. I'm still trying to understand parts of this story myself. I got to make sense of some things first."

"Marv—"

"Enough!" He growled. "I know you got questions, but I have to concentrate right now. My shoulder feels like it's on fire and we still have maybe 75 miles to go."

…

The ride back to NCIS was quiet- too quiet. Tony had questions about the walk Gibbs had with Fornell, but he wasn't saying anything. Instead, he had the steering wheel in a death grip and he was staring straight ahead. Tony glanced back at Bishop who was watching with a marked level of fear.

Tony took a deep breath. "Boss, you're upset. We all are. It's a nightmare that refuses to end- you know, the kind where you don't ever really understand what the danger is—"

Before he could finish, Gibbs swung the steering wheel off the road, hitting the brakes on the gravel off the freeway. The car stopped abruptly, sending Bishop flying into the back of Tony's seat.

Tony rubbed the back of his neck and turned to glare at Gibbs. "If you don't want to talk, just say so."

Gibbs stared straight ahead, shaking his head. "This has never been about us. This has been an FBI problem that they dropped in our laps. The bugs in the bullpen were a distraction. Kidnapping McGee was a way to get at Fornell without drawing suspicion to an FBI mole. They only way they could've got at Tim was through the FBI. It's an FBI problem, an FBI mole, and we're the ones taking the hit."

"Marshal service had him, Boss."

Gibbs narrowed his eyes. "Through Mullins' office. She knew where he was, and she used to be FBI."

Tony relaxed back into his seat. "Miltonoff has to be the mole. No one else had their hand in all of these pots."

"Then why wasn't Tim's body in that condo? If the mole's job was to protect people like the Arnolds, then killing McGee would be a priority."

Tony got quiet. Bishop furrowed her brows in the backseat. "It's like a puzzle without all the pieces."

Gibbs sighed. "We establish an FBI mole as a fact and then we have the center piece. Miltonoff could be that guy, but I'm not convinced."

Bishop nodded, chewing her lip. "I need somewhere to work."

"We're not going back to D.C. Best chance of finding McGee and Miltonoff is in his hunting grounds around Nashville. Hope you brought your Go bags."

"Always do," Tony said.

"A Go bag?" Ellie said. "I, uh, don't have one yet."

Gibbs looked over his shoulder. "Don't worry. There's got to be a Sears along this highway somewhere."

"Sears?" Her dark brows knit.

"Sears is perfect," Tony said.

"We'll stop and I'll give you ten minutes to grab a couple of shirts, socks, and a package of underwear."

"A package…of underwear?" she repeated under her breath. Tony grinned.

…

McGee opened his eyes to a cold draft coming in. The pain woke with him and he groaned. Someone was tugging at his blindfold, and he found himself blinking into the face of an older woman. She gave him a warm smile, the lines around her soft blue eyes smiling as well.

"Lin! Damn it! Keep him covered 'til we get in the house."

"He's not a prisoner, Marv, and we aren't treating him that way."

She seemed to understand how delicate his right arm was and she gently eased him out of the car. "Come inside. We'll sort out your meds and get you some food."

McGee could've pushed her off and run, but there was nothing around him but a fog had settled in him from the pain and the three surgeries he'd had. He let her lead him into the cabin, struggling to take note of the trees and dirt road. There were no real identifiers anywhere- nothing that would help Gibbs if he made contact. Then he caught sight of a mountain ridge to the west. It was spring now, and they looked bare and brown, but it told him they had moved west of Virginia.

The woman eased him onto a couch and took possession of the medications Miltonoff brought with him. "Sit down, Marv. I have to take a look at that shoulder."

She placed the meds on the counter and grabbed a bag off the floor. She pulled out a surgical scissors and cut off the arm of his shirt. She probed both ends of the wound as he howled in protest. "It went all the way through, Marv. Let me clean it and wrap it up."

"Gotta cuff him to something, Lin. Boy doesn't understand what I'm trying to do for him."

She sighed. "It feels wrong."

"Make him comfortable, Linny, but hook his good hand to the pipe."

She approached McGee carefully. "Nobody's trying to hurt you. Marv is a good man, and I've been a public health nurse going on 35 years. I've never even had a traffic ticket. I don't mean you any harm."

The open cuff dangled from McGee's good wrist but he shook his head. "There's no need, Marv. I can't think of a single scenario where you would've kept me alive this long if you were working with Arnold or his people. My only worth to them is as a corpse."

"Ya' believe that Marshal was going to kill me?"

"That's a hard one for me. If he was bad, he had a week to do something about it before you showed."

"They needed a patsy, Tim. I was supposed to be the fall guy."

McGee sighed. "All I know for sure is that my team has got to be really worried, and if you're serious about helping me, then we have to establish contact."

"Gibbs isn't going to be so easy to convince. He's not my biggest fan."

"They need to know I'm okay." McGee leaned into the couch on his left side, but nothing seemed to relieve the pain shooting up his arm.

The woman brought him a pill and a glass of water. "You need a refill on these pain meds. They aren't going to last real long."

He pushed the pill away. "Call Gibbs. I don't do anything 'til you call him. I'll help, Marv. I'll tell him that I trust you, but you got to do this for me."

Marv sighed and pulled out a phone. "No doubt there's a trace on his phone by now. I got another number we're going to try.

…..

Ellie was frowning at a three pack of women's panties with pink flowers on them. Fashion was generally not her concern, but she was a woman of habits, and flowered panties weren't among them. She threw them into her cart on top of a three pack of socks and two long sleeved cotton shirts when her phone rang. She frowned at the number and put it to her face. "Hello?"

"_I need to talk to the boss."_

"Tim?!"

"_Put him on Bishop. I gotta talk to him now_."

"Ah…he's outside. I'm inside buying flowered…"

"_Ellie, he's gonna make me hang up if you don't get Gibbs on the phone right now_."

Ellie started running.

"_Ellie!_"

"Just wait! Tell him to wait!"

She bolted past shoppers in line and climbed over a register, pushed a clerk, and headed for the exit. Yells followed in her wake as people screamed for security. She tripped on the curb, and went sprawling into the street, a pickup screeching to a halt inches from her head. She got to her feet just as a teenage security guard tackled her from behind. The phone sailed out of her hand as she hit the ground again, and it skated beyond her reach. She lifted her head. "Boss! McGee is on the phone!"

"Gibbs!" She yelled as the kid parked himself firmly on her back. Then a big calloused hand appeared and scooped up the phone. She looked into those steely eyes for a moment as he pointed Tony in her direction and put the phone to his ear.

"Tim?"

"_Marv wants me to hang up. Says you're stalling for a trace_."

"Put him on."

There was the sound of some fumbling and then a gravelly voice. "_Gibbs, I don't have time for foolishness."_

"The only foolishness is me standing in a Sears parking lot watching a 16 year old rent a cop wrestle with Bishop because she ran out of the store trying to get the phone to me. No trace. We're in your country now. We want my agent back."

"_You don't understand what's going on."_

"That's why we're here, Marv. If you were going to kill him, you would've done it back at the condo. Didn't happen. We're here to help."

"_FBI has a mole and it ain't me."_

"I know."

"_Not good enough. The kid's not safe 'til the mole is caught. I can't figure it out. You got a better brain than I do. You figure it out."_

"We do it together."

"_I like you, Gibbs, but I know you only half believe me at best. The kid and I will be fine. Go home and find the damn mole."_

"He's not a kid, Marv. He's a grown man. If anyone gets to think of him as a kid, it's me. When I first met him, he looked younger than the idiot kid here trying to arrest Bishop. You don't get to just disappear with him. He doesn't belong to you. He's hurt and he needs care. You give him back now._"_

"_We don't have time for arguments. Gonna hang up now."_

"Don't do this, Marv! If we have to hunt for you, we're going to do it old school. It won't be pretty."

"_Well, good luck with that then, Gunny."_

The dial tone erupted in his ear and Gibbs cursed into the wind. In the background, DiNozzo dodged punches as he pulled the kid off Bishop.

….

TBC


End file.
